


A Night To Remember

by SaskiaK



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Ghosts, Halloween, Haunted House, Haunting, ieroween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-03 04:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 20,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12740802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaskiaK/pseuds/SaskiaK
Summary: Frank wants to spend the evening of his birthday with his friends in a haunted house - what could possibly go wrong?





	1. At the mansion

_“Here!” Frank slapped the leaflets onto the table, his excitement overflowing. “Check that out!”_

_Cautiously, each band member reached forward and picked up one of the glossy pamphlets that lay in the middle of the table.After a few moments, Gerard spoke._

_“And this is what you called us here for?”_

_Frank frowned before collecting his thoughts and moving on._

_“You asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday and this is it.”  
“You want to stay overnight in a haunted house on Halloween?” Ray clarified. As he did so, he glanced towards Mikey, who had as yet, not said a word, but looked as though he really wanted to. Gerard picked up on the glance and smiled comfortingly at his brother._

_“What do you think, Mikey?”_  
The young bassist looked down. “I’m not keen,” he said simply.  
“Mikey!” Frank pleaded. “I know why…”  
“I know you know why, so how can…?” Mikey paused. “I’ve seen enough haunted places to last me a lifetime.”

_Frank leaned forward and whispered in Mikey’s ear. As he sat back, he stared expectantly at his friend. Mikey’s nose crumpled._

_“I don’t know, Frank.”  
“Okay,” Frank conceded, though it was hard to conceal that he was crestfallen._

_Mikey’s shoulders sagged; he hated himself for being the one to encourage that look of disappointment, no matter how hard he tried to disguise it._

_“Book it,” Mikey capitulated._  
“No, Mikey, if it’s not…”  
“Seriously, Frank, I’ll be fine,” he nodded.

*

“I know what you’re thinking!” Frank enthused as they stood outside the house.  
“I really don’t think you do, Frank!” Bob glanced up and frowned.

It was a creepy enough looking building, but because, basically, it was a tourist trap, a few clichéd items had been placed around to make the place seem spooky. A rocking chair on the porch; clearly fake cobwebs; dim, slightly green tinged lighting all designed to make the place look eerie.

“Oh, great, there’s even a mannequin in the upstairs window, this is really over the top, Frank,” Bob grumbled.  
“Oh, stop complaining, Bob,” Frank replied. “It’s my birthday, don’t ruin it!”  
“There’s no mannequin,” Gerard commented.  
“There is, it’s…” Bob pointed to the top left corner window, but nothing was there but curtains. Dropping his hand he furrowed his brow. “It must have been a trick of the light.”  
“Frank,” Mikey pulled at the guitarist’s sleeve.  
Frank turned and smiled at his anxious friend.  
“He’s just making it up to scare you,” Frank reassured him.  
“I just…” Bob began.  
“Didn’t you, Bob?”  
“Like, I said, trick of the light.”  
Mikey frowned.  
“Shall we go in then?” Ray asked. “It’s pretty cold out here, you know.”

Heading inside, they laughed at the excessively creaky sounding door as they pushed it open. Hitting the lights, they looked around the entrance hall. It was a large house and the impressive entrance hall took their breath away. It was just like every horror movie house they’d ever seen. Large and dark with mahogany panelled walls. A grandfather clock – perfect! Old style furniture, creaky floorboards, patterned rugs everywhere, paintings on the walls, everything.

“There’s got to be a suit of armour here somewhere!” Frank laughed. “It would be so right for this place!”  
“It’s pretty impressive,” Ray nodded.  
“Do you want to look around?” Frank asked.  
“Yeah,” Gerard agreed, “I’d like to, might even get a few song ideas too!”  
“I think we should stick together,” Mikey commented quietly.  
“I think that’s a good idea,” Bob agreed, still feeling guilty at inadvertently scaring Mikey earlier. “It’s a big place, probably easy to get lost.”

Visiting room after room, they couldn’t help but be distracted by the dramatic style of the house décor. It was as if it had been decorated in the late 1800s and never altered. There was a very definite feel as they moved from room to room that time had stood still and that if they checked their watches, nothing would have moved on. There was an inexplicable feeling that they were being watched, and not just by the numerous portraits hanging in every room.

In addition to the impressive layout and general sense of eeriness, each room had a floor-standing plaque giving information on the room’s use in days gone by.

“Hey!” Gerard called. “Look at this! This room was used to try witches in the late 1600s!”  
“Maybe that’s what you saw in the window?” Frank chuckled.  
“Yes,” Bob growled. “Laugh it up, hobbit! If anything comes for us, it’ll be you they catch, we’ve all got longer legs.”  
“Yeah, but you’d be a meal, I’d just be a snack,” Frank retorted.

Heading downstairs, Frank led the way.

“So what this then?” asked Ray.  
“Duh!” Gerard piped up. “Basement?”  
“I meant what did it used to be?”  
“What it was is what it still is,” Frank replied cryptically as he pushed open the heavy wooden door and switched on the lights.“The dungeon!”  
“A dungeon!” Gerard’s eyes widened. “Cool!”

Edging his way past the others, he stood and looked about in awe.

“I’ve never seen a real dungeon before.”

Around them, on the walls hung chains and manacles, a rack for stretching, pokers, thumbscrews, iron masks and…

“Awesome!” Gerard cried excitedly as he opened the giant casket and inspected the spikes inside. “An Iron Maiden!”  
“What else is down here?” asked Ray. “You seem to have done some research already.”  
Frank nodded. “I have and this is going to blow you away!”

He led them to the back of the dungeon where a small cell stood. It was entirely set into the wall, with old but solid looking stonework walls and a heavy wooden door similar to the one at the entrance to the dungeon. Frank explained:

“The story here is that the witches put a spell on this cell during the trials and anyone in it on Halloween would disappear at the stroke of midnight and be taken by the Devil himself.”

Bob laughed as he peered inside at the grim but ordinary looking cell.

“And that’s happened, has it?” he asked sarcastically.  
“That’s the legend,” Frank replied. “But I want to test it.”

Frank took a step back and shoved Bob into the small room, closed the door and pushed the bolt across before he even had chance to turn around. Within seconds Bob was hammering on the door.

“Open this door, Iero!” he yelled.  
“Oh come on, Bob, where’s your sense of fun?”  
“Open this door and I’ll show you!” he threatened.  
“You’re not really going to leave him in there are you?” Mikey asked. “I wouldn’t like it, and you’re claustrophobic, I know you’d hate it!”  
“He’ll be fine,” Frank pleaded with them. “And it’s only an hour.”  
“And then he’s going to kill you,” Ray countered. “Enjoy the rest of your birthday, Frank, it’s going to be short lived.”  
“We’ll see you in an hour, Bob!” Gerard called. “Assuming the Devil doesn’t take you!”  
“Let me out of here!”

Bob gave one final thump on the door before he realised they’d gone.

“Oh, I’m gonna get you for this, Iero!”


	2. Can Bob Find a way out?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odd things start to happen and Bob gets nervous

Bob stalked the length of the cell, occasionally kicking the door when he reached it. Lowering his shoulder, he tried to force the door a couple of times before he realised that he was most likely to seriously hurt himself if he kept trying. The door was solid; there was no question about it and certainly no escape would be possible that way. Looking around at the stone walls, he sighed. Tapping on numerous stones revealed nothing and merely left him with sore knuckles.

“Well,” he finally said resignedly, “looks like I’m stuck here until either the Devil or Frank comes for me. Frank better pray that the Devil gets here first!”

Settling himself on the floor and leaning back against the wall, Bob was grateful that the electricity had extended to the whole of the house and that Frank had left the light on inside the cell. He didn’t believe in ghosts; there was no reason to be afraid. Yet somehow he was. He wouldn’t say it, or even admit it to himself. He convinced himself that all he was concerned about is that he may be left there somehow. Even if it seemed ridiculous, the fact that there seemed no other way out was actually pretty frightening and he began to have a sense of how people may have felt being locked in that tiny cell for real.

“Don’t expect any mercy, Frank! When I get out of here, you’ll pay. Mark my words!”

*

“Okay,” Gerard held Frank’s arms and stared meaningfully at him. “What you did to Bob, do you plan on doing anything to us? Because, let me tell you now, Frank, it was funny - once!”  
“Funny when it was happening to someone else?” he asked to clarify.  
“No, just that once,” Gerard replied sternly.  
“Don’t panic!” Frank replied. “I only have one experiment and that was it.”  
“You are going to let him out at midnight, aren’t you?” Ray asked pointedly.

Frank looked sheepish.

“Yes, well,” he sighed. “I was, but did you hear him?”  
“I think the whole neighbourhood heard him!” Ray returned.  
“I really think he’s gonna kill me.”  
“Well, how did you honestly think he’d react?” Ray asked with a touch of concern in his tone.  
“I thought he’d be the one to handle it best.”

Mikey shrugged, Ray frowned, Gerard glared.

“Not making any friends here, Frank!” Gerard announced.

Frank’s shoulders sagged.

“Look,” Ray placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, “he’s not going to kill you.”  
“No,” Gerard shook his head. “He’ll probably just hang you upside down until your brains fall out of their own accord.”  
“Not helping, Gee!” Ray commented.

Frank frowned.

“Perhaps I should just go down there, apologise and let him out?”  
“That might be best,” agreed Mikey.  
“Look,” Gerard checked his watch, “there’s only forty minutes left. He’s a big boy now; he’ll be fine. Let him out at midnight or you’ll never hear the last of it. You never know, maybe there’s a part of him that wants to try it out too?”  
“Are you sure?” asked Frank, still uncertain.  
“I’m sure!” Gerard nodded his agreement. “Besides, worst comes to the worst, we still have one guitarist.”

Mikey couldn’t help but chuckle at the statement, encouraging a glare from Frank.

“There,” Gerard grinned, “all sorted! Now, let’s look upstairs.”

As they headed upstairs, Mikey’s head pulled up sharply as a movement at the top of the stairs caught his eye.

“Did you see that?” he gasped.  
“What?” Gerard asked concerned by his brother’s anxious tone.  
“There was… up there…” he pointed to the corridor at the top of the stairs. “Someone. No, nothing.”

Mikey looked down at his feet.

“Mikey,” Frank began, his voice filled with concern. “Did you see something?”  
“No,” Mikey shook his head. “Of course not.”

The three remaining band members glanced at each other, not knowing quite what to say. No one wanted to make Mikey feel awkward, but neither did they want him to be scared. The experience he had endured at the Paramour was no laughing matter and none of them wanted him to feel ashamed of his fears. It was left to Frank to salvage the situation.

“I’m hungry!” he declared. “Who else is hungry?”  
“I could eat!” Ray grinned.  
“Gee? Mikey?” Frank asked.  
“Yeah!” Gerard replied enthusiastically. “Thought you’d never ask!”  
"And coffee!" Frank added. "We want to stay up, after all."

Mikey’s mouth turned up in a slight smile before widening into a full-blown grin. He knew what Frank had done, they all did, but they were prepared to pretend that it was a spontaneous question and he was happy to play along too.

Walking back downstairs, Gerard spoke first.

“Kitchen?”  
“Eventually,” Frank replied. “Pantry, then scullery, then kitchen.”  
“Scullery?” Ray asked.  
“It’s where they keep the skulls.”

Frank turned and stretched out his arms to halt them.

“Guys!” He paused. “This is an old house. It has rooms that defy description.”  
“Pantry, I understood,” Mikey commented.  
“I was okay with kitchen, myself,” Gerard added.

Frank sighed and turned away to continue walking.

“Let’s eat. We have pizza.”

*

It only took fifteen minutes to heat two of the pizzas that had been left in the fridge for them at their request. Frank had made sure that at least one had been vegetarian and was happy to discover that there were, in fact, two of them. While they ate, two more pizzas warmed in the oven.

“So, Gee, any album ideas come to you yet?” Ray asked as he plucked a slice of pepperoni pizza from the plate.  
“The White Lady of Alverton Manor,” he replied absently, staring off into the distance.  
“Gee?” Mikey asked tapping his arm.

Gerard turned his head.

“What?”  
“That’s a theme or a song?”  
“What’s a song?” he asked.  
Frank’s brow furrowed. “You just mentioned ‘The White Lady of Alverton Manor’. How do you know about that?”  
Gerard stared at Frank, disbelieving. “I said what?”  
“This place used to be called Alverton Manor, they changed it about ten years ago,” Frank explained.  
Gerard shook his head. “It was probably in those leaflets you gave us.”

Frank dropped his chin onto his hand as he leaned on the table. He wished he’d brought a leaflet with him, but he felt sure he’d discovered that detail on the Internet.

“Yeah, I guess,” he finally said.

*

Bob glanced at his watch. Finally it was approaching midnight. If he had been entirely honest, his hour in the cell had been an unpleasant and unnerving one. He dearly hoped that they would release him as they had promised. He’d even agree to no repercussions if they’d just let him out, such was the degree of his discomfort.

At last it was midnight and as the grandfather clock struck the hour a section of the wall at the rear of the cell slid back and to the side. Bob’s eyes widened and he scrambled to his feet. The tale of the Devil was a deception to discourage people from being near enough to see what was really happening. An escape route leading to a secret passage timed to open at midnight. Bob guessed that the mention of Halloween was an embellishment for the tourists. But here was a way out and he wasn’t about to ignore it.

Slipping through into the passage beyond, Bob was taken unawares by just how dark it was beyond the new doorway. As the clock finished chiming the hour, the wall slid back into place leaving Bob in the pitch black passageway. Gasping in surprise, he turned and gingerly felt along the stonework, but the opening was sealed. There was no way back.


	3. Where’s Bob

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The search for Bob begins, but he makes a discovery of his own!

Bob’s heart raced and he took deep breaths for a few moments to try to calm it. He had waited a few minutes, in the darkness, hoping that his eyes would adjust, but he had nothing to adjust to. There was simply a complete and utter absence of light. He held his hand up within one inch of his eyes and couldn’t even distinguish an outline. Totally and suddenly without vision in a strange and unfamiliar place, Bob tried hard not to feel scared, but he knew without even checking that his pulse was rising and he had very possibly made a huge mistake – possibly his last. What if he remained trapped within the walls of the house? What if no one ever found him?

“Calm down!” Bob told himself unsuccessfully as his breathing quickened. “Calm down, they’ll come for you, you won’t be there, but if you shout, they’ll hear you.”

Part of him couldn’t believe he was talking to himself, but then, now he couldn’t believe he’d done something so stupid as to get himself trapped in an unknown passage. Terrible thoughts of not being able to escape leaked into his mind again and he clenched his fists as he tried to concentrate.

“Help!” he yelled, hoping to be heard. Pressing his hands to the wall, he called again, even louder than before. “Help!”

After a few more minutes of shouting, he sighed.

“If they’re not there, they can’t hear me, if they are, they still can’t hear me.”

With much trepidation, Bob decided to head down the passageway. He had no clue as to which way to head and spent a moment contemplating over left or right. Just as he considered it, to his right he saw a dim light appear, partially lighting the passage. In many ways he wished he couldn’t see it; filled, as it was, with cobwebs and dust. Heading along the passage towards the light, Bob moved carefully checking how his feet moved on the uneven floor – now would not be a good time to fall and hurt himself.

*

Frank opened the cell door and sighed.

“Okay,” he shrugged, “the joke’s on me. Who did it?”  
“Did what?” Ray asked picking up on the confusion in Frank’s tone.  
“One of you let Bob out.”  
“What are you talking about?” asked Gerard.  
“Was it you? Just to scare me?”  
“Frank, we’ve all been with you, the whole time. None of us could have done it.” Gerard shook his head. “Are you serious?” he asked moving forward to inspect the cell.  
“How did he do that?” Ray asked bewildered as he too saw the cell empty.  
“You don’t suppose…” Frank began.  
Gerard shook his head, but with a degree of uncertainty.  
“No, he’s playing a trick on us,” he tried to convince himself as much as the others. “We’ll go upstairs and he’ll be there waiting.”  
“I’m not so sure,” Mikey commented.  
“Mikey, the Devil did not take Bob,” Gerard insisted.  
“I didn’t say it was the Devil, I just said I…”  
“Well, where is he then?

Mikey offered a slight frown to his brother’s reaction.

“I don’t know, Gee, but somehow I don’t think he’s upstairs. I don’t really know what I think.”  
“Well, that’s useful, Mikey.”

Mikey looked down to the floor and over his shoulder at the same time.

“I’m sorry,” Gerard conceded. “I… no, there’s no excuse.”

Mikey offered a half smile.

“Let’s go upstairs. If he’s there he can laugh at us, if not, we can start worrying for real.”  
All three nodded; Mikey had made a very real point.

*

Reaching the end of the passageway, Bob was somewhat disconcerted to discover that whatever was the source of the distant light had now moved to the opposite end of the second passageway.

“Is someone there?” he called, hoping desperately that no one replied.

Shaking his head as he got his wish, Bob continued along the corridor, dimly lit by the mysterious light. He seemed to be walking for a very long time, but in reality, because his steps were so careful in the gloom, he had only travelled about fifty feet.

Bob’s eyes widened as the passageway opened out into a room full of computer equipment and monitors. Flipping a few switches, including a light switch, he sighed with welcome relief as the room lit up around him. Several of the computers fired up and he realised that the monitors were fed from strategically placed hidden cameras around the building. As a former sound engineer, Bob had no trouble getting to grips with what he realised were lighting and sound effects, animatronics controls and a comprehensive set of security cameras.

“So this is how they make it appear haunted!” Bob allowed himself a wry smile. “And oh, would you look at that!”

Glancing at the monitor, Bob could see his four friends on one of the monitors looking somewhat confused and disconcerted. Turning a dial, he listened to their conversation.

*

“He’s got to be somewhere!” Gerard reasoned.  
“Gerard,” Frank replied with an edge to his voice, “your ability to state the glaringly obvious knows no bounds.”  
“Oh, well if it’s that obvious,” Gerard pouted, “why don’t you tell me where he is?”  
“Guys,” Ray interjected, “I don’t think this is the time to argue. What if he’s in trouble? What if he’s somewhere but can’t get to us?”  
“You do mean somewhere in ‘this life’, don’t you?” Gerard asked warily.

Bob laughed; if the house and the legend were getting to them now, how would they feel after he had finished with them?

“Of course I do!” Ray sighed. “I think we should split into pairs and find him.”

Bob watched as nods of consent abounded and he rubbed his hands excitedly.

“Oh, boy! It’s payback time!” he cried with glee as he discovered a map of all the secret passages around the house and which rooms they connected. “Am I going to have some fun!”


	4. Bob 1 - Frank 0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ain’t payback a bitch?

“Right! Let’s see,” Bob smiled as he switched one of the monitors to a multi-room view. He watched as they split into pairs.

“Oh! How predictable!” he shook his head scornfully as Frank and Ray headed to the left towards the study and Gerard walked off in the opposite direction followed by Mikey.  
“Okay, Frank, let’s see if you find this funny!”

Frank reached for the ornate handle of the study door and turned it, pushing gently. With a frown he pulled the handle fully down and pushed harder.

“It’s locked,” he stated with confusion.  
“It can’t be,” Ray replied shaking his head as he stood alongside. “We were in there only an hour ago.”

Frank nodded, accepting the logic but still puzzled as to why the door refused to move. Turning the handle once more, Frank pushed and pulled at the door with mounting frustration.

“I’m telling you, it’s locked!”

Only feet away, Gerard and Mikey turned, curious over the commotion Frank was creating.

“What’s wrong?” Gerard finally asked, walking back to the study as Frank struggled with the door once more.

“It’s locked,” Frank repeated with some annoyance in his tone.  
“No it’s not!” Gerard insisted. “We were just in there!”  
“Well you try it then!” Frank waved a path towards the door with his left arm as he stood back.

Shrugging, Gerard moved forward and as he reached for the handle, Bob flicked a switch on the bank of controls in front of him. Gerard barely had to move the handle before the door opened, easily and smoothly; gliding to a halt almost half open as Gerard released the handle.  
Frank’s eyes widened in surprise, before he turned to see six accusatory eyes staring at him.

“Frank, we don’t have time for games,” Gerard scolded him. “Can we get back to looking for Bob now?”  
“But…” Frank spluttered. “It was… I’m not playing games!”

Ray frowned as he stepped through the door into the grim, overbearing study with Frank following behind. As he did, the door slammed shut behind him.

“Grow up, Frank!” Gerard yelled through the closed door before walking away.  
“I didn’t do that!” Frank turned to look at Ray who appeared unimpressed. “Ray, you’ve gotta believe me, I…” Frank tapered off; it seemed useless to protest his innocence.

Out of curiosity, he reached for the handle again only to find the door firmly locked once more.

“Ray,” he whispered.  
“What?” came the tired reply.  
“It’s done it again,” he said in a quiet voice, hoping that his sincerity would be obvious.  
“Frank…” Ray paused at a loss to know what to say. “Why?”  
“Why what?” he asked puzzled by the question.  
“Why don’t you want to look for Bob? Is it because we might see something we weren’t supposed to? What game are you playing now?”  
“I’m not playing any games!”  
“Why should I believe you? Bob thought you were innocently showing us the cell until you locked him in!”  
“I told you, one experiment,” Frank shook his head. “I… I’m serious, Ray!”

Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, Ray walked over to the door and turned the handle. The door moved easily and Ray glared at him.

“Fine! If you don’t want to find him, that’s up to you, but I’m looking. You can do what you like!”  
“Ray! Wait!” Frank cried helplessly as Ray stormed from the room.

Following him, Frank stiffened as the door slammed once more as he reached it. Rattling the handle to no avail, Frank cried out for help. He didn’t care how stupid he looked; he simply did not want to be left in that room on his own.

“Ray! Please, I’m serious! Open the door!”

Ray turned; there was something about Frank’s tone, a certain edge that told him that he was really scared.

Bob stood in front of a camera and pressed the remote with his left hand before slipping it into his pocket. He had to force himself not to laugh. The camera was now projecting an image of him apparently standing inside the mirror hanging above the grand fireplace in the large study. He could see a live image of it displayed on the monitor at the end of the control desk; it looked very effective. At the moment it was a full-length image of him in the middle distance as if he were being reflected standing in the middle of the room. Stretching out his right arm as if reaching for something he spoke. His words were picked up on the microphone, hanging hidden from view above him, the echo and reverb effects on the control desk pushed up high gave the right amount of ghostly distortion to his voice.

“Frank!” he called.

Frank turned, his eyes scanning the room to find the source of the voice.

“Bob?” he queried. “Is that you?”  
“Frank!” Bob called again. “You left me!”

Frank’s eyes lifted to look straight at the mirror and the ghostly image of Bob staring directly at him, his arm outstretched and now, perhaps even more terrifyingly, walking towards him.

“Fuck!” he screamed.

Pressing his back against the door, his knees weakened as he stared wide-eyed and open mouthed at the apparition.

“Fuck! Oh, fuckfuckfuckfuck!”

Stepping to the side, barely able to look away, he turned the handle, pulling at the door with all his strength.

“Ray!” he screamed, banging a fist on the solid mahogany, clearly terrified. “Let me out! Please, for God’s sake, let me out!”

Moving quickly back to the study door, Ray placed his hand on the handle and, once again, at the flick of a switch and the press of a button, the door moved easily and the ghostly image disappeared. As Ray pushed the door, Frank practically fell into his arms. Sinking with fear to his knees, he gasped for breath, only remaining upright because Ray was holding him.

“Frank?” Ray was astonished by the sight of him, pale and trembling. “What happened in there?”  
“B…Bob,” he stammered. “He…” Frank shook his head; there was no way Ray was going to believe this. None of them would.

Bob too was gasping for air. He doubted he had laughed that hard in years. Was it enough? Frankie had certainly been terrified out of his wits. But hadn’t the others left him there too? Sure it was Frank’s idea, but they had all gone along with it.

He looked around the control room. It couldn’t hurt to stay a little longer, could it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, poor Frankie!


	5. Just a trick... surely?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Come on Frank, where’s your sense of humour?

“Frank!” Ray dropped to his knees to join the shaken guitarist as he knelt on the floor. “It’s okay,” he added with a sympathetic tone. He knew now that this was genuine; Frank was clearly not faking this reaction.

The still trembling guitarist looked up at him.

“I wasn’t making it up, Ray.”  
“No, I know, I see that now. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” Ray replied comfortingly.

“Are you?” Bob smirked. “That’s nothing to how sorry you’re going to be!”

“What happened?” Ray asked with so much concern and sincerity in his tone, Frank was able to relax a little.  
“I… I saw Bob.”  
“He’s in there?” Ray glanced into the room and then back to Frank as his heart skipped a beat as he realised that merely seeing Bob wouldn’t scare his friend unless something was very wrong. “Wh… what… is he okay?” he stammered not wanting to ask the real question.

Frank shook his head.

“He’s a ghost, I saw him in the mirror; he was calling out to me.”

Ray sat back on his heels, momentarily reserving judgement. The idea was ridiculous, wasn’t it? But clearly, Frank had been scared by something.

“In the mirror?”

It sounded suspiciously to him as if Bob had played some sort of trick on Frank. It was of course true, but he assumed that Bob was hiding somewhere in the room. The true elaborate nature of the trick would elude him. Frank nodded.

“I’ll have a look,” he said as he got to his feet, helping Frank up too. “Do you want to show me?”  
“No!” Frank said firmly. “I’m not going back in there.”

Frank was adamant and Ray was now even more certain that he was telling the truth.

Frank watched with unease as Ray walked back into the study. He was torn; he knew he really didn’t want to go in with him, but neither did he want to remain in the hallway on his own either. He fidgeted and shifted from one foot to another as he decided what to do. Occasionally, he glanced into the room, grateful that Ray had left the door open and he could see him moving about; it made him feel much less alone, even though he was technically in another room. Ray looked at the large bookcase opposite the mirror and frowned. It would be typical, he thought, for a house of this size and age to have secret rooms hidden behind apparently everyday furniture. Had Bob found one and used it to torment Frank? But it still didn’t explain how he got out of the cell. If there was one thing he felt he knew for sure, it was that that cell was solid stone – no way out.

Behind Frank, a mahogany wall panel silently slid back and Bob smirked as he saw the obviously edgy guitarist waiting impatiently for Ray to rejoin him. Ray was taking his time. He felt terrible for not having believed his friend and was absolutely determined to find whatever it was that had terrified him so much. But for Frank, every second left alone in the hallway was agony.Having watched Ray moving around in the room for a few minutes without a single incident, Frank had just about reached the decision to join him when his eyes flew open in terror as a hand clamped itself firmly over his mouth as an arm wrapped around him. Strong arms pulled him backwards through the open panel into the passageway beyond. Struggling and trying desperately to cry out through the hand, Frank’s muffled cries carried through into the study and Ray spun on his heels and ran for the source of the noise. As he reached the hallway the mahogany panel had already slid noiselessly back into place. Ray looked around frantically; there was no sign of the younger man.

“Frank!” Ray yelled. The hallway was large but Frank had been there, standing right by the door. He had glanced occasionally at him, noticing his unease; it was highly improbable that he would just wander off. In fact it was simply unthinkable. Frank was scared and unwilling to be left alone, but the fact remained that he had vanished. Ray frowned; he had definitely not imagined that cry. Something had happened to him, something very strange was happening and he didn’t like it. He had to find Gerard and Mikey; they had to be told.

“Enjoy your little visitation from Ghostly Bob?” the drummer whispered in Frank’s ear.  
His only reply was for Frank to struggle in his grip once more. Despite his height, Frank was muscular and strong, but even with all his strength, he was unable to break free.  
“Don’t forget, Frankie,” Bob kept his voice low, “all those pounds I shed didn’t happen without doing a few weights myself. Now,” he began with a mocking tone, “if I move my hand away, can I rely on you not to shout for help?”

Frank nodded.

“Liar!” Bob chuckled as he dragged his still struggling friend back down the passageway. “Let’s see if we can find something fitting for you to do for the next hour, shall we?”

*

Gerard and Mikey had headed towards the living room and he hadn’t seen them return. Remembering the layout of the rooms, it could only mean that they were in the living room or dining room, assuming they hadn’t headed downstairs to the kitchens.Hearing their voices in the dining room, Ray picked up his pace and opened the door.

“Guys!”  
“Found him?” asked Mikey hopefully.  
“No, but now Frank’s disappeared,” he told them with a frown.

Gerard returned the frown with one of his own.

“Off sulking somewhere, is he?”  
“No, Gee, you don’t understand. He’s disappeared!”  
“What do you mean, ‘he’s disappeared’?” Gerard was confused by the use of the term. “You mean he’s sloped off because we yelled at him?”  
“No,” Ray’s voice bordered on shouting, “I mean he’s disappeared. One second he’s standing there, the next, I turn my back, I hear a cry and he’s gone!”  
“A cry?” Mikey asked his eyes widening. “You mean he was attacked?”  
“Jumped more likely,” Gerard pronounced, “by Bob by any chance?”

Ray shook his head then shrugged.

“I don’t know, I didn’t see anything, but something really strange is happening. Frank said he saw a ghostly reflection of Bob in the mirror calling to him.”

Gerard’s eyes narrowed.

“They’re in this together! They’re trying to freak us out.”  
Ray shook his head. “Frankie seemed pretty shaken, I think he was really scared.”  
“Nah,” Gerard shook his head. “Something’s not right.”  
“What if there’s someone else in the house with us?” asked Mikey.

Nobody wanted to answer that question. It was plausible. Mikey had thought he had observed a movement at the top of the staircase earlier. Was it possible?

“I don’t think so, Mikes, why would someone be here?” Gerard asked, shaking his head at his younger brother.  
“Because it sounds better than the alternative?” He looked down to his feet. “What if this place really is haunted?”

Gerard sighed; this place was really getting to all of them.

“Mikey, they’re playing tricks on us, it’s the only possibility,” Gerard tried to reassure him.  
“But…”  
“Right, Ray?”

Ray nodded. He didn’t really believe it, but he had nothing to offer as an alternative.

“Come on,” Ray added, “let’s try the kitchen.”

All three had felt the tension mounting, the slight doubt in their minds that grew with each passing moment that this house was more than met the eye. As they descended the stairs to the kitchen they all felt a cold shiver as the unnatural chill of the room hit them like a wall.  
Mikey stopped dead in his tracks and pointed a shaking finger at a large bladed cooks knife sticking out of the centre of the pine kitchen table. All eyes fell on the still quivering knife.

“No one came past us, Gee!” Mikey pointed out, his voice shaking almost as much as the knife blade.

Gerard’s mind raced. What the hell was happening here?!

“Okay,” he forced himself to concentrate but the confusion and nervousness in his voice were clear to all. “We check the doors… s..see if they’re still locked.”  
“No,” Mikey backed up a few steps, “I’m not going down there.”

Gerard grimaced - he understood.

“Ray,” he gathered his courage, “go with Mikey back upstairs, stay with him.”  
“You can’t go on your own!” Ray replied surprised by his astonishing decision.  
“It’s just a trick, I’m sure. It’s just Bob and Frank playing us.”

Ray didn’t seem at all certain, but it seemed logical. But it seemed a shame that nothing logical had happened all night – maybe that would have helped?

“I’ll just be a few minutes,” Gerard assured them, “wait for me upstairs.”

Ray nodded and silently followed Mikey back to the dining room.

*

“Comfortable?” Bob asked with a broad grin across his face.  
“Let me off this thing!” Frank demanded, pulling frantically on the ropes lashing him to the rack in the dungeon.

Bob pushed the lever and the ratchet moved a few notches pulling the ropes tight and Frank’s arms and legs out straight, but without actually stretching. Bob dropped to one knee at the guitarist’s side.

“Come on, Frank!” he laughed. “Where’s your sense of humour? Besides, didn’t you always want to be a little taller?”


	6. Gerard is just not himself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard definitely isn’t himself, but what’s going on with Bob?

“Bob,” Frank began with a nervous edge to his tone, “you’re not going to actually use this on me are you?”

Bob smiled, innocently at first then drawing his lips thin into a sneer. Taking on a threatening tone, he explained:

“Let me tell you what’s going to happen,” rising from his knee, Bob leaned over the guitarist menacingly. “I’m going after Gerard next and he’s going to end up impaled on those viciously sharp spikes of the iron maiden, after that Ray is going to feel the crushing pain of thumbscrews, hot pokers and manacles and dear, sweet Mikey will find out what it’s like to be locked into that gibbet over there and hung from the ceiling over a blazing fire. Then you, my dear Frankie, will grow steadily taller as I stretch you out on this contraption until you snap!”

Frank’s mouth fell open and he visibly shook with fear.

“Bob… please… it’s the house… you’re not like this! We’re your friends!”  
“The house?” Bob shook his head and laughed. “What is it with you guys? This place is not, I repeat, not haunted! Ghosts don’t exist.”  
“B-but… then why…?”

Frank’s anxiety grew significantly worse as he now believed Bob was going to kill them out of choice. The drummer could see the look in his friend’s eyes and realised he’d gone a little too far.

“Frankie,” his voice softened and he appeared genuinely apologetic, “of course I’m not going to use it on you, you idiot! You think this phoney haunted house has somehow turned me into some sort of psycho? You’ve watched far too many bad movies!”

Bob laughed at Frank’s new expression – indignant humiliation.

“Then why have you tied me to this thing?” he demanded, pulling at the rope around his right wrist.  
Bob shrugged. “I needed somewhere to put you, the cell’s got a way out, this place is soundproof and it seemed to be by far the most appropriate and amusing option.”  
“Amusing to who?” Frank snapped.  
“Me!” Bob returned with a broad grin. “You had your fun, now I’m having mine.”

Frank pulled hard on the ropes again in frustration but it was useless.

“Bob!” he pleaded as they held firm. “Come on, you got your revenge, now let me go.”  
“One hour.”  
“But what if it starts to work?”  
“It can’t work on its own and besides, it doesn’t really work anyway, the ratchets only move until they detect the slightest pull, then it stops. None of these things work. Do you really think they’d let you hire out a place that had lethal instruments of torture on display?”  
“But the iron maiden,” Frank shook his head, “Gerard inspected the spikes, they were real enough!”  
Bob shook his head. “I checked it out, as you close the door, they retract. But of course, Gerard doesn’t know that!”  
“You can’t do that to him!”  
“I can, and if you try to warn him or any of them, I’ll find a way to get this rack working and I won’t stop stretching you till you’re taller then me! Got that?”

Frank nodded, pouting as Bob left to return to the control room. He felt foolish, ridiculed and defeated. The joke was most definitely on him.

*

Gerard pushed the kitchen door open again and stepped inside. He felt his mood alter as he walked towards the table. There was, in addition to the unnatural chill in the air, a very real sense of foreboding and gloom. And, he realised, a combination of unbearable sadness, guilt and anger. The air was electric with an undisclosed tension and he knew immediately why Mikey had refused to enter. It felt uncannily similar to the atmosphere at The Paramour and Mikey had been particularly receptive to it.

“What are you doing?” Bob muttered to himself as he observed Gerard on the monitors.

On the screen, Bob saw Gerard slumped over the kitchen table apparently crying. He had heard the conversation, Bob knew that Gerard was looking for him and yet, half way through the search of the kitchen, the young singer had flopped down on a seat at the table and, resting his head in his arms, begun to cry. The sounds were soft at first as he wept gently onto his sleeve, but to Bob’s alarm, the sounds grew increasingly louder and Gerard’s whole body shook as wrenching sobs poured out of him.

Bob grew tense as he watched him. There was no way this was related to him and it all seemed so out of character. Something was wrong, very wrong. Something was affecting Gerard and he knew for certain that it wasn’t anything that was artificially created in the control room.

Gerard finally lifted his head, from the angle of the camera, Bob couldn’t see his face, but his bearing – hunched over with head hanging and wringing his hands – told the drummer that still Gerard wasn’t himself. Bob gasped as his concern was confirmed to him when Gerard reached forward and plucked out the knife still sticking into the centre of the table.

There was no time to question what was running through Gerard’s mind; Bob was already running down the secret passage to the kitchen. Pushing aside cobwebs as he ran down the dimly lit corridors, not even caring to be careful over his loud footfalls. Gerard was somehow in danger from himself. Bob didn’t understand how, but he didn’t care about that now, what mattered was Gerard.

The passage door was only half way open as Bob pushed through and raced towards Gerard still sitting at the table but now with the knife point pressed to his heart. Both hands were on the hilt ready to push. Bob felt the oppression in the atmosphere and to him it felt like he was running in water. Everything felt slowed down and the slightest movement ten times more difficult. Finally, after what felt like an age, he was there, at Gerard’s side, tearing the knife from his hands and throwing it to the floor.

“What do you think you’re doing!” Bob cried, shaken by the realisation of what he had just prevented.

The singer turned his head and glanced upwards. Bob’s eyes widened as for the briefest of moments it seemed as if the transparent image of a woman's face overlaid Gerard’s own. In a split second it was gone and with it the terrible atmosphere in the room.

“Bob?” Gerard said quietly, then louder. “Bob!”

Bob frowned. He didn’t understand what had just happened but he knew he had to get Gerard out of there. Neither did he now feel all that comfortable about leaving Frank on his own, tied to the rack in the dungeon. Grabbing the still slightly dazed and shaken singer by his arms, Bob dragged him to his feet and through the still open passage door. He had to find out what was going on and that meant speaking to Frank – the only one of them who had researched the history of the house.


	7. And then there were four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard takes some convincing, but perhaps other events will prove that odd things are happening?

“What are you doing!” Gerard yelled as Bob pulled him down the maze of passages. “Let go of me and tell me what’s going on! Where have you been? How did you get out of that cell? Where’s Frank?”

Gerard continued to fire questions at him as Bob dragged him along, still slightly too dazed to stop him.

“Shut up, Gee! We have to get back to the dungeon,” Bob replied as they ran.  
“Dungeon?” Gerard demanded pulling harder against him. “What are the pair of you up to?”

Bob sighed as at last they reached the dungeon and, pushing the entrance aside, he shoved Gerard through into the comparatively brightly lit room. Gerard stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Frank tied to the rack.

“What the fuck…!” Gerard was aghast at the sight.

Turning he faced Bob, backing off a couple of paces to find his own ground.

“You better not think you can do that to me, Bryar!”  
“Gerard, just shut up and sit down!” Bob ordered. “We need to…”

Before he could finish his sentence, Bob sighed in irritation as Gerard ran to Frank’s side and started untying his left hand.

“No you don't!” Bob shouted. It was bad enough having one of them who wouldn’t listen to him without two.

Grabbing Gerard around the arms and waist, Bob dragged him back away from Frank. The knot had partially been untied and it wouldn’t be long before Frank could work it loose enough to free his hand. He still had to untie his other hand and both ankles yet though, but Bob realised he probably only had a few minutes to silence the very vocal and struggling Gerard. There was only one way to do this. Dragging Gerard over to the iron maiden, Bob pushed the front open with his foot and shoved Gerard inside. As he closed the front section, Gerard’s eyes widened and he screamed in terror. Behind them, despite knowing how it operated, Frank held his breath.

All of Gerard’s sounds silenced within moments of the maiden closing, in fact at that precise moment, the only sound was Bob’s breathing, which came in heavy gasps as he forcefully calmed himself. The next sound came from within the casket.

“I hate you, Bryar!”

Even Frank laughed at the sound of Gerard’s voice; so indignant and embarrassed.

“Yeah, I know you do, but can you just shut up and help out here? We have a very real problem!”  
“Yeah,” Gerard agreed, unaware that he was the problem.

Bob turned his head to look at Frank. He had released his left hand and was, unexpectedly awaiting Bob’s approval to free himself. Bob gave a brief tired nod before opening the iron maiden to let Gerard out, offering him a conciliatory smile as he did so.

“You better have a good reason for this, Bob,” he grumbled as he moved past him to assist Frank in untying his ankles.  
“I do,” Bob replied, gravely, “and you’re it.”  
“Me?” Gerard straightened up and turned back to stare at the drummer.  
“Yeah, I just stopped you from killing yourself.”  
“What?” The pitch of Gerard’s voice raised several tones as he conveyed his disbelief. “What game are you playing now?”

Frank kicked off the last of the ropes and joined the others an expression of confusion that almost mirrored Gerard’s own.

“I’m not playing any games!” Bob insisted. “You were in the kitchen sobbing your heart out, by the time I got there you were about to push a knife straight into your chest!”  
“I’m not falling for that!” Gerard snapped. “I don’t know what you’re trying…”  
“Was it the large bladed cook’s knife?” Frank asked quietly. “And was he sat at the table?”

Bob turned disbelieving eyes towards Frank.

“How do you know?”  
“Oh, please!” Gerard rolled his eyes. “Great double act, well rehearsed and all, but…”  
“Shut up and listen, Gee!” Bob snapped. “I’m serious! If you want proof, I can give you it, it’s all recorded on tape.”

Gerard fell silent. He remembered the strange feeling as he entered the kitchen, but little more. Bob certainly seemed sincere, but after the jokes he and Frank had played on them, he was less inclined to believe him. But there was one thing he did need to say before Bob took over the conversation.

“Before you say anything else, Bob, I want to know what the hell you thought you were doing scaring the life out of Mikey, after all that business with…”  
“I never did anything to scare Mikey!” Bob raised his hands defensively. “Frank, yes, Ray, maybe, but not Mikey. How heartless do you think I am? I know how that place got to him!”  
“The knife! On the kitchen table!” Gerard tried to prompt his memory.  
“The one you nearly impaled yourself on?”  
“If you say so,” Gerard grumbled in return.  
“That wasn’t me,” Bob replied quietly and with such sincerity that Gerard was momentarily lost for words. “Look, I don’t understand it either but I know something very strange happened before and I didn’t cause it.”  
“Okay,” Gerard nodded, “I’ll accept that something happened, but I think we should go back upstairs. If someone is here that we don’t know about, I don’t think we should be leaving Mikey and Ray on their own.”

Frank and Bob both nodded.

“Agreed,” Frank spoke for both of them, “then I’ll tell you everything I know about the house.”

*

Mikey paced.

“He’s been gone too long, Ray,” he consulted his watch for the eighth time in the last few minutes.  
“It does seem far too long,” Ray agreed. He pondered his next question carefully. “Do you want to wait while I check or come with me?”

Mikey frowned; it didn’t seem that either were particularly good options.

“I…I’ll wait,” he finally settled on a reply.  
“Okay,” Ray offered a concerned smile. “I’ll be really quick, and I’ll be within shouting distance the whole time, okay?”

Mikey smiled. It was a fake smile. He tried to give the impression that he was sure that everything would be fine, but in reality only managed to convey the opposite.  
Ray squeezed his arm reassuringly.

“I’ll be real quick.”

Nodding, Mikey watched as he descended the stairs at speed.

Ray had only stepped in through the kitchen door for the briefest of moments before Bob, Gerard and Frank all piled through a secret door.

“What the…” Ray began, a little lost for words. “Where did you all come from? Where have you been? We’ve been worried sick!”  
“We’ll explain everything in a minute…” Bob began, only to be interrupted by Gerard.  
“Where’s Mikey?”  
“I had to find you, you’ve been ages, I came down, but he didn’t want to.”  
“You left him alone!”  
“It was his choice, Gee. He’s just upstairs, by the door.”

Gerard nodded and headed immediately up the staircase.

“Where?” he called down.

Ray looked up, meeting Gerard’s concerned gaze.

“He was right there!”

Gerard shook his head, his eyes filled with concern and worry for his missing brother.

“Come with me,” Bob ordered.  
“No! I have to find Mikey,” Gerard pointed vaguely behind him.  
“Gee, there’s a camera in every room, and another down here where they can all be viewed. We can find Mikey from there, much easier than on foot.”

Gerard’s shoulders sagged. He had to trust Bob, but he felt so useless.

“And, Frank,” Bob continued, “I really think we need to know what the hell is going on around here!”  
“I’ll tell you everything I know,” Frank replied; the grave reality of the situation not so much washing over him, as hitting him like a tidal wave. “I just hope it helps.”


	8. Frank tells all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank gives the guys the house’s history and then makes a surprising discovery

It took only a couple of minutes for Bob to guide everyone safely through the maze of passages that led to the control room.Three jaws dropped at the bank of equipment set up to make what could be an already haunted house seem even more so.

Bob set to work immediately choosing a different room for each monitor and a couple of others with multi-room view.

“What’s this?” Gerard asked as he saw a monitor standing apart from the others with a view of the kitchen  
“That’s the recording,” Bob explained. “It’s still running. Did you want to view it for when you were in there?”  
Gerard chewed his lip and nodded. “Yeah, I think I need to see it.”  
“Okay, Gee, I understand.”

Bob gave the singer’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze before setting the recording back to the moment Gerard had entered the room.

Gerard watched the recording on the screen with a grim fascination as events unfolded exactly as Bob had described them. Turning to face the others, Ray noted his stunned expression.

“Are you okay, Gee?” the guitarist asked.  
“I’ve seen it and I still don’t believe it,” he murmured.  
“I know it’s hard,” Bob added, “but we all have to pull it together now. You’re maybe not as susceptible as Mikey and we have no idea what it’ll do to him. Look, I’ve checked all the monitors, panned around, everything and I can’t see him.”  
“Bob,” Gerard’s voice faltered. “What if she's trying to kill him too?”

Bob looked pityingly at Gerard’s pained expression.

“Gee, I don’t know what’s happening, but I really think it’ll help if we know more about this place.”

Gerard nodded his agreement.

The four men took seats in silence around a small table and, while still keeping watch on the monitors for movement, as one they turned to Frank.

Frank leaned both forearms on the table with his fingers outstretched; somehow he felt it helped him concentrate. Gathering his thoughts for a few moments, there was an almost imperceptible nod as he readied himself to speak.

“The house was built in the late eighteen hundreds for an English couple, Lord and Lady Alverton. They were seriously rich, I mean in today’s equivalent, multi-multi-millionaires. Alverton was one of what English society called _nouveau-riche_ and they despised him for that.”  
“What’s _nouveau-riche_?” Ray asked.  
“It’s French, it means ‘new money’. Basically it means he made his own fortune, rather than being born into it,” Frank explained.  
“How can you despise someone for making money?” Gerard asked. “Pretty weird if you ask me.”  
“Yeah well, apparently it was considered vulgar at the time. They were viewed as lower class people buying their way into elegant society. To be called an industrialist at the time was quite an insult.” Frank paused slightly before returning to the point.“Anyway, he made all his money in the railways, first in England and then in eighteen ninety something, they moved out to America. Of course, by then, the railway business was growing rapidly and he just got more and more successful. They were already getting older by the time they moved out and had grown children with families of their own. When Lord and Lady Alverton came out here, their children and their families remained in England. They’d had three girls, so of course none of them were part of the family business and their husbands all had their own careers already. So, a few years later, Alverton sold the business and retired.”  
“You really have researched this haven’t you?” Ray cut in, impressed by Frank’s knowledge.  
“Yeah, well, I really wanted to come here, so I read up,” Frank replied.  
“Anyway,” Ray waved, “sorry, carry on.”  
“Well, of course, the same fascination with English aristocracy existed here even then and they were the toast of the all the social circles. They fitted in much better over here because of the lack prejudice over how they made their fortune. It was ironic really, everyone wanted the railways, but they disapproved of the people who became rich through it.”  
“Then what?” Gerard asked sensing that the story was reaching a particularly relevant point.  
“Well,” Frank sighed. “They took frequent trips back to England to see their families. Money was never a problem so they went two or three times a year for several weeks at a time. Of course, there were no planes in those days, so all travelling was done by ship, or, more specifically in their case, luxury liner.”  
“Oh,” Bob frowned, “I think I see where this is going.”  
Frank nodded. “You guessed it, after one of their trips in nineteen twelve, they were returning on the Titanic. Lady Alverton survived in one of the lifeboats, but Lord Alverton was lost.”  
“I thought all the first class passengers survived?” Ray commented with surprise.  
“No,” Frank shook his head, “I thought that too. It was almost all the women and children, but apparently only about thirty percent of the first class male passengers escaped.”  
“Wow! That many?” Ray sighed, “I didn’t expect that. Go on.”  
“So, Lady Alverton returns here and, well, she just never got over it.”  
“And she killed herself in the kitchen?” Gerard asked.  
“Yeah,” Frank nodded.  
“On Halloween?” Bob asked.  
Frank almost laughed. “Now who’s been watching the bad horror movies? No, I think it was on his birthday, either his or hers, I can’t quite remember.”  
“I think I saw her,” Bob admitted.  
“When?” Frank asked.  
“In the kitchen; like a sort of transparent mask over Gerard’s face.”

Gerard frowned deeply.

“That’s a little too weird for me!”  
“Oh,” Ray sounded surprised. “I thought you were going to say it was what you thought was a mannequin that you saw in the window, when we arrived.”  
“I’d forgotten all about that,” Bob replied. “That would be the master bedroom then.” He added consulting his room map.  
“There’s supposed to be a portrait of them from when they were young in the bedroom, if you want to check?” Frank added.  
“Yeah,” Bob nodded as he got to his feet. “I think I would. I don’t know why, but I have a feeling it’ll help.”  
“Well, I’m staying here,” Gerard announced. “If Mikey shows up on one of these monitors, I want to know.”  
Frank nodded. “How about Bob and I check out the portrait and you and Ray stay here and watch the monitors?”  
Ray nodded his approval. “Sounds good. If anything shows up, I’ll call your cell.”

*

Stepping through the door of the master bedroom at the end of the long corridor at the top of the stairs, both men felt an eerie chill in the air. The portrait they had gone in search of dominated the room and Bob and Frank stared intently at it.

“That’s who I saw, alright,” Bob confirmed as he stared up at the portrait of Lord and Lady Alverton.  
“Er…Bob,” Frank began unnerved.  
“What’s wrong?”  
“Lord Alverton?”

Bob turned his gaze to study the second figure.

“I don’t believe it!”  
“It is isn’t it?”  
Bob nodded. “He’s the image of Mikey!”


	9. Oh, fuck... I’m dead?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or is it that straightforward?

“We should get the others, they need to see this,” Bob said after a brief pause.  
Frank gave a small laugh. “Well, yeah, it’s significant, but how does it help us? It doesn’t tell us where he is or what’s happened to him.”

Bob turned a hopeless expression towards the shorter man.

“I’m clutching at straws, Frankie, but I need to, because it’s all I’ve got.”

Frank nodded his understanding.

“I’m out of ideas, Bob, I don’t know what to do. I talked Mikey into coming here, he didn’t want to, but I…”  
“Hey!” Bob cut in with a commanding voice. “Mikey’s a big boy, he can make his own decisions and you didn’t force him.”  
“I did,” Franks voice was barely audible. “When I whispered in his ear, I told him it wasn’t haunted, that it was all fake.”  
“You thought it was true,” Bob comforted him.  
Frank shook his head. “I didn’t think anything, I didn’t really believe it, but I didn’t know for sure.”  
“You thought it wasn’t haunted and said so,” Bob summarised. “It’s not your fault. You have nothing to beat yourself up over.”  
“But it is! And somewhere, God only knows where, is Mikey and he’s probably scared stiff!”  
“I’m right here!” Mikey screamed for the third time. “I’m standing right fucking next to you!”  
“We better get back,” Bob could see he was losing the battle with Frank, he was guilt ridden and nothing he said was going to change that.  
“Bob!” Mikey yelled with no response. “Frank! Why can’t you hear me? Can’t you see me? What the…”

Mikey’s jaw dropped as his friends turned to face him and headed towards the door, passing right through him as they walked.Mikey spun on his heels to see Frank glance back with an expression of curiosity on his face but Bob continued to the door as if nothing had happened.

“What’s up?” asked Bob pausing at the door.  
“I… I don’t know,” Frank replied with uncertainty. “Just briefly… no, I don’t know.”

Mikey watched bleakly as they left the room to rejoin the others. Beside him stood a high backed chair facing the fireplace.Hesitantly he edged his hand closer to it, gasping as it passed straight through.

“Oh fuck… I’m dead?”

*

Bob and Frank walked back to the control room in silence. Frank drowning in his guilt and Bob racking his brains trying to find arguments that Frank might even consider to be valid. The truth of the matter was that Frank was struggling to reconcile what he had done against what he had said. There was the small matter of what he had called his experiment – leaving Bob in the cell, awaiting the arrival of the Devil who would come to snatch him away – and telling Mikey that the house was not haunted.How could he justify both? He had either lied to Mikey or been very cruel to Bob. Neither possibility made him feel like a good friend. Added to that, Mikey was missing and very possibly in real danger. The ghost of Lady Alverton had already tried to force Gerard to re-enact her death. The blade had been poised ready to plunge into his heart and only Bob’s quick reactions had prevented it. He couldn’t even begin to think about what she may do to Mikey. Would she kill him? Had she already done it? The mere thought made him feel sick to the pit of his stomach.

“Bob!” Frank finally reached breaking point. “I’m sorry about the cell and I deserved everything you did to me and if I could take it back I would. Hell, I'd take it all back if I could! We should never have come here! How could I do all that research and not even notice that Alverton looked like Mikey?”

Bob smiled sympathetically.

“And if you had noticed?”  
“What?”  
“If you’d noticed the resemblance what would you have done?”  
“Well, I…” Frank sighed; yes, even with the benefit of hindsight he was talking nonsense. “Nothing,” he admitted. “It would only have made amused me more.”  
Bob nodded.  
“We’ll find him, Frank.” Bob offered his most sincere smile. “Come on, let’s get back to the control room.”

*

A low moan escaped Frank’s lips as they found the control room empty.

“This is getting ridiculous!” he cried as he looked around the small room for the smallest sign, checking all the monitors as he did so. “First Mikey, now…”  
“Shhh!” Bob interrupted. Nodding, he pointed to the door to the secret passage network. “I can hear them.”

Sure enough, and much to Frank’s relief, the voices grew louder as Gerard and Ray approached the doorway. As they piled through clutching the map that Bob had found of the passageway layout, they turned grim expressions towards their friends.

“He’s not on the monitors and he’s not in any of the passages.” Gerard’s head dropped and he stared at the floor trying to hide the tears that welled in his eyes but the shake in his voice gave him away. “I can’t find him. He’s not here. Nowhere.”

Frank shivered slightly; the hairs on the back of his neck bristling.

“Well,” Bob began with an element of tension in his voice, “if you don’t mind me being a little blunt? If you can’t find any trace of him at all, he must still be alive at least.”  
“Oh, you reckon?” Mikey’s voice dripped heavy with sarcasm.  
“I’ll believe that when I see him,” Gerard said quietly, but still with hope in his tone.  
Mikey rolled his eyes. “If you could see me, there wouldn’t be a problem, would there!”

“They can’t see you.”

Mikey turned shocked by the sudden appearance of another person in the room. Another person they couldn’t see.  
The voice belonged to the ghost of Lady Alverton and was a rich, crystal cut English accent; the kind you only hear in old black and white movies.

“Catherine,” Mikey said automatically, offering a warm smile as he saw her.  
“You remember?” she replied returning with her own adoring smile.

Mikey cocked his head trying to understand what was happening to him; how he appeared to have unaccountable memories and thoughts. To his eyes she appeared young, as she was in the portrait. Part of him almost understood; it felt right to be in this house with her, but part of him wanted to run and hide and right now his fear was winning. His next words were, he believed, essentially a statement, but they emerged as a question, and one that he was uncertain he wanted the answer to.

“You killed me?”  
“It’s not that straightforward,” she replied cagily.

Mikey sighed. Of course it wasn’t! Why would it be? After all, it was only his life!

“Can you not make it straightforward?”

She offered a partial smile as she reached out a hand.

“Come with me.”  
“Where?” Mikey asked, as she took his hand in hers, but the room was already fading to black and he was spinning. Spinning and falling and… nothing.


	10. Where is Mikey?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not so much where as when...

The room spun quickly back into focus in a rush of artificial light and Mikey staggered backwards as the apparent motion left him dizzy. Falling backwards against a wall, he knocked over a lamp and sent it crashing to the floor, smashing into several pieces as it landed. Mikey spread his arms out, steadying himself. Hitting the wall may have hurt a little, but it was better than hitting the floor.

He breathed deeply and slowly as he tried to calm down. Reaching into his pocket he sighed with relief as he found his inhaler, thankfully undamaged. For the moment he was alone and confused in his new surroundings; nothing looked familiar to him. It appeared to be a bedroom, but not one he had yet seen in the house. It was decorated in a way that he was certain someone had hoped would be stylish, but just, at least to him, seemed far too grand and ostentatious. It struck him as particularly odd that the bed was clearly designed for two people but seemed rather too small by normal standards. Still slightly dizzy, he took a seat on the burgundy satin throw that lay on top of the crisp white, freshly laundered sheets. In front on him, a small table and chairs arrangement caught his eye and by the wall stood a chaise longue. There were far too many patterns in the room, the wallpaper, the upholstery on the chairs, the chaise longue and the carpet – all different, all contrasting, and definitely not to his taste.

The furniture was at the same time old fashioned but appeared brand new; was it just that the furniture in the house never got used? To his left was a partially open door. Taking a deep breath, his balance now restored, Mikey rose and opened it fully, pausing as he realised that his hand hadn’t simply passed through the door handle as it had earlier with the chair. Walking through into the next room, he found himself standing in a well appointed, but small, sitting room complete with sofa, chairs, desk, cabinets and fireplace. Again the gaudy decoration drew a frown of distaste. Then, somehow, realisation dawned.

“This isn’t the house.”

It all felt wrong, very wrong. There was an unnatural calm and stillness in the air; a tableau of half-formed images, partially animated by unseen forces. The atmosphere was thick and heavy, hanging over him like a depression. Mikey’s head pounded and all he wanted to do was sleep. He knew he hadn’t seen the room before now, but the sensation he now experienced confused him even more – he was beginning to recognise items in the room. His head turned sharply at a knock at the door. It looked like an interior door, but he hadn’t tried it yet. Now, he didn’t want to. He had no idea who might be standing there or what they would make of him. Would he be arrested for trespassing? He neither knew where he was nor how he had come to be there.

The woman, Lady Alverton, Catherine was nowhere to be seen and he was frightened. A second, more urgent knock came and Mikey took a step back, uncertain what he should do. Hide, maybe? The decision became redundant as the door suddenly opened. Before him stood a man with slicked back hair in a uniform of a smart white jacket and black pants.

“Lord Alverton, excuse me,” the man hesitated as he saw Mikey simply staring at him. “I heard a crash, but you didn’t answer. Is everything in order, sir?”

Mikey’s mouth opened slightly, but no words would come out.

“Would you like me to fetch you some water, sir?”

Mikey shook his head, still staring, unblinking at the man.

“Who are you?”  
“I’m your steward, Sir; Watkins.” The steward paused before continuing with concern in his voice, “My Lord, shall I fetch Lady Alverton? I believe she’s taking the air on the boat deck.”   
“Y…yeah,” he finally stammered in reply. “Please.”  
“Very good, sir,” the steward nodded closing the door as he left.

Mikey put a hand to his head as he looked around the room. There were far too many questions and no answers. Where was he, and possibly more importantly, why on earth did that man think he was Lord Alverton? Staggering to the bathroom to splash water on his face, Mikey watched the water running and sighed as it dripped from his eyelashes and cheeks. Glancing up, he caught his reflection in the mirror and was relieved to see his own reflection staring back at him. That did, however, confuse him further over how he managed to be so easily mistaken for a elderly English lord.

“No, it’s not obvious,” the same clear English voice, that he had heard what felt like only minutes earlier, answered his thoughts. “But I can explain.”

Mikey turned and as he saw her he stepped back to steady himself as more inexplicable memories flooded his mind. Suddenly, he recognised the room and he realised with horror where he was but with a deep breath he pushed the information to the back of his mind; it was simply impossible. Closing his eyes briefly, he gathered his thoughts.

“Where am I?” he asked hesitantly.  
“My dear, Thomas, you know where you are.”  
“My name isn’t Thomas!” He insisted. “It’s…”

Mikey appeared as though he had the name within his grasp, but it kept eluding him.

“It’s…” he tried again. “Damn it! What have you done to me?”

Mikey pushed past her and, heading back into the sitting room, flopped down heavily on the sofa as he scoured his memory, searching for his own name. He heard the rustle of her skirt as she sat next to him and took his hand once more.  
“You don’t understand,” she began slowly.  
“You’re damn right I don’t!” he snapped. “I know this doesn’t feel right to me, but I don’t know why. I’ve forgotten my own name for fuck’s sake!”  
“Thomas! Please listen to me!”  
“My name isn’t Thomas!” he snapped.  
“Yes it is!” she countered. “You are Thomas Alverton! Or…” she paused briefly, “you are now.”

Mikey cast a bewildered eye towards her.

“What do you mean, I am now?”

She gazed on him with pitying eyes. The boy was scared for his life; she understood, but soon, just as with his name, he would forget everything and simply be hers.

“When I saw you, I saw your connection to the world of spirit. I knew I could be reunited with my husband through you. His spirit is in you… you are my Thomas.”

Her voice almost cracked as she gazed on the face of the man she recognised as her husband before reaching out a hand to caress his cheek. The touch of her hand felt electric and Mikey reacted without thinking. Cupping her hand in his, he kissed her palm.

“Oh, Catherine!” he whispered.

Lady Alverton smiled. The spirit of her long dead husband had been given this one single opportunity to return to her. They may have been distantly related, or it may have been pure coincidence, but the striking resemblance Mikey bore to the deceased lord had given Lady Alverton’s ghost enough energy and hope to return to that fateful night aboard the Titanic when her husband had died.

With every passing second Mikey’s own memories, personality and spirit were being suppressed, only to be replaced with those of Lord Alverton. She had waited, aimlessly and agonisingly for a chance to press her lips to his once more, but this opportunity was more than she could possibly have hoped for. This time, with Mikey acting as host to her husband’s spirit, she would change history. She would not stand aside, oblivious to the danger, and allow him to die in the icy Atlantic waters. He would live, she would live; nothing could tear them apart this time.

For the briefest of moments she considered the effect of this on the young visitor to her home. It seemed wrong to use him in this way, but while she felt the passionate pull of guilt, the fear of going through all this, only to lose her husband a second time was simple unbearable. It would be Mikey’s life to trade for her husband’s. It was regrettable, but to her, the end more than justified the means.


	11. Mikey is slipping away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey continues to forget his own life and Frank blames himself

You could have heard a pin drop. Frank had apologised again, as he had done five or six times previously. Now the only sounds in the control room were breathing, an occasional throat clearing and the shuffle of a chair whenever any of them shifted in their seat. Ray glanced over at Frank and pursed his lips as if he was about to speak, but the right words were nowhere to be found.Frank blamed himself; anyone could see that. Bob had already tried to explain that it wasn’t his fault, but Frank had refused to accept it. He had taken the whole situation very much to heart. The way he felt went far beyond blame and fault; the guilt he felt implied intent and no amount of words were going to change his mind. Ray decided he was going to try again anyway.

“Frankie, you have to stop blaming yourself.”

Gerard rolled his eyes and sighed heavily.

“No,” he snapped, “he doesn’t! If he wants to blame himself, let him!”  
“Gee!” Bob chimed in, his tone filled with surprise at the singer’s reaction.  
“What?” Gerard got to his feet and turned to face them. “Mikey didn’t want to come here in the first place! And when we got here, what happened? He separates us and weird things start happening.”  
“That was me!” Bob interrupted.  
“Was it you who stuck the knife into the kitchen table? Was it you who nearly made me push a knife through my heart? Was it you who snatched Mikey? Was it? Well?”  
“No, but it wasn’t Frank, either!”  
“I have to blame someone!” Gerard yelled his voice cracking as the pitch rose higher. “I can’t blame Mikey and I’m damn sure I can’t blame a ghost, so who does that leave?”  
“You’re not being fair, Gee,” Ray replied disappointed by his friend’s outburst.  
“Fair!” Gerard yelled in reply. “Do you think any of this is fair? Mikey’s vanished and it’s all his fault.”  
“Shut up, Gee!” Bob snapped as he and Ray rose as one in case the need to physically defend Frank arose. “Frankie’s not to blame and you know damn well it!”  
“Yes he is! Even _he_ knows it!”

Gerard jabbed an accusing finger in Frank's direction as he yelled the words.

“I’m sorry, Gee! I’m so sorry!” Tears stood in Frank’s eyes as he got to his feet and moved one step tentatively toward his friend. “I’d do anything to get him back, you must believe me.”

Gerard screamed in frustration.

“You can’t do anything right, can you!”

Frank shrunk back away from him and closed his eyes. Bob narrowed his; one more word of abuse from Gerard and he was going to make _him_ the sorry one.

“Can’t you see I’m trying to make you angry? You’re supposed to argue with me! Stand your ground!”

Gerard’s shoulders sagged as he looked at Frank’s pained expression.

“I was trying to provoke you into saying it wasn’t your fault.”  
“But…”  
“Frankie,” Gerard sighed extending a hand lazily to pull Frank closer into a hug, realising only as he did how much his friend was trembling. “You’ve got to believe it’s not your fault, please. I can’t listen to you apologise any more.”  
“But, Gee, if I…”  
“No!” Gerard insisted. He gently pushed Frank away from him a few inches and, placing his hands on his shoulders, he locked eyes with the other man, going on to emphasise the next three words in staccato fashion. “Not. Your. Fault.”

Bob relaxed. None of them had realised what Gerard was trying to do and it was a good job he explained when he did or it could have degenerated pretty quickly into a full-blown fight.

“It’ll be dawn in just over an hour,” Frank commented, turning a worried expression to the others, “they’ll be expecting us to leave.”

Gerard’s eyes met his; the determination on his face there for all to see.

“I’m not leaving this place without Mikey, even if I have to buy the place, I’m staying here!”

Frank nodded his understanding and approval, immediately joined by Ray and Bob.

“I’ll check their site on the Internet,” Frank offered, “get some contact details. No matter what, I think they should be warned.”

Gerard checked the monitors again as Frank logged in to the site. Jotting down the relevant numbers, he was just about to close the browser when something caught his eye.

“What!” he cried wide-eyed, staring at the monitor astonished by what was written on the screen.

All eyes turned and Ray and Gerard spoke at the same time, almost in unison.

“What’s wrong?”  
“What is it?” added Bob.  
“Remember what I told you? About the death of Lord Alverton on board the Titanic? It’s now saying they both survived!”  
“But that’s not… how…?” Gerard stumbled over the words. “Mikey?”

*

Mikey pulled back away from Lady Alverton as she drew him in to a kiss. For the briefest of moments, it had felt right, natural and in that moment he sensed the other spirit within him, taking over memory by memory. Mikey fought to retain control, but it felt as though somehow, his own spirit was the weaker of the two. Perhaps it had something to d with the greater age of the man or perhaps it was the location - he was now in Alverton's time period. Perhaps either Lord or Lady Alverton were forcing him to forget somehow - maybe even both. But Mikey wasn't about to give up without a fight.

“Why are you doing this to me?” he asked nervously.  
“My dear, I'm sorry, I... I just want my husband. Don't you understand wanting something or someone so badly you'll do anything for it?”

Mikey shook his head and rose from the sofa, his mind swirling, barely able to take it all in. There was no point yelling or arguing, she was determined to go through with this and somehow he knew getting angry wouldn't help. He had to reason with her, make her see the injustice of her behaviour. He closed his eyes briefly realising that even his thoughts didn't sound like him any more.

“And my life? What if I want that? How can you think this is in any way acceptable?”

Lady Alverton turned her eyes down; she had no reply. She knew she was effectively robbing Mikey of his own life, but it was too late to change her mind now, it was set. Her heart was set.

“Where are you going?” she cried as Mikey headed for the door on receiving no answer.  
“I need to get out of here! Away from you!”  
“We’re on board ship,” she smiled pityingly. “There’s nowhere for you to go.”

Mikey frowned bitterly. He remembered vaguely knowing where he was and the steward referring to the boat deck. He would find out exactly where he was and how to get away; it was his only chance.

Slamming the door behind him, Mikey found himself in a very long corridor; the ship was huge. Making a note of the room number, he looked to his left and right. To his right, as far as he could see where more rooms, but to the left, only a few yards away, he could see a staircase. Mikey stood at the bottom of the grand, sweeping stairway and gazed at it for a few moments; it looked familiar to him, but oddly, he felt that what he sensed were his own memories, not those of Lord Alverton.

He walked up, slowly, trying not to draw attention to himself. As he looked around, he noticed that everyone was dressed very elegantly; the men in woollen suits and derbies and the women in close fitting jackets with long skirts, some wore hats too, but they appeared more decorative than functional.Occasionally, someone would nod to him or say good afternoon, to which he merely mumbled a reply. He felt very out of place but he also appeared to be the only one who thought so.

Everyone who addressed him by name called him Lord Alverton and it was really starting to distress him. Dressed, as he was, in jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt, it was inexplicable to him how he, as a man in his late twenties, could conceivably be mistaken for the elderly English lord.

As he reached the top of the staircase, he looked up at a massive glass dome covering it and bathing him in natural light, from what he realised was a sunny sky with a few light clouds. To his left and right he saw door that appeared to lead outside. Heading to the right, the steward at the door opened it for him.

“Good afternoon, Lord Alverton,” he greeted him politely.

Mikey merely nodded; all he wanted to do was to get outside. The ship was travelling at speed and the wind that whipped up under the covered section near the door was a chill one. Stepping out into the sunlight, Mikey looked to his left, first down the length of the ship, then up to view the four giant funnels of the impressive steamer.

“It’s magnificent, isn’t it?”

Mikey turned to see who had spoken. Beside him stood a man of medium build with a large moustache.

“Ismay,” he introduced himself. “This is my ship. Breathtaking, isn’t she?”  
“It’s the Titanic,” Mikey murmured bleakly.  
“Quite so. Not just beautiful, but unsinkable too.”  
“What’s the date?”  
“April fourteenth,” Ismay replied, trying not to react to what he saw as the gentleman’s strange behaviour.  
Mikey nodded. “Then it’s tonight.”

Ismay regarded him with a curious expression.

“I’m going back to my room, won’t you excuse me, Mister Ismay?”  
“Of course, good afternoon, Sir.”

Mikey nodded as he headed back inside. He would have remembered the route anyway, but he felt he knew it from more than one use. He was losing control; Alverton was taking over. By the time he reached the cabin and opened the door he felt as though his body wasn’t his own and that he was merely standing nearby, listening in on other people’s conversations.

“Catherine,” he began. “We need to talk.”


	12. Lord Alverton makes a decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank gets a visitor and Mikey gets a nasty surprise

“Thomas?” Lady Alverton looked up from her seat on the sofa.

She hadn’t moved since Mikey had left. There was really no need to chase after him, he was already forgetting his own memories and quicker than she thought too. Now her husband had come back to her, he was taking control over his young host; soon, there would be nothing left of him.

“Catherine,” Alverton shook his head, “what you’re doing is wrong.”  
“What I’m doing is bringing us back together, how can that be wrong?”

Alverton took a seat next to his wife on the sofa.

“My dear, tonight, the ship will founder and sink. Can you really justify killing this boy just to have a few more hours with me?”  
“No! No, Thomas, you don’t understand,” she cried taking his hands, “this is another chance for us, not just a few more hours. You can get into a lifeboat, you can save yourself.”

Alverton shook his head.

“I can’t go before the other men.”  
“Don’t be such a fool, Thomas!” she cried. “There were other men in the lifeboats. Lots of men. I need you, Thomas! Please, I can’t lose you again!”

Alverton looked thoughtful for a few moments.

“His name is Mikey. He plays music with his brother and friends. They’re worried about him.”  
“Don’t! I don’t want to hear it!”  
“How do you think they’ll feel when they realise he’s dead?”  
“I know exactly how they’ll feel!” Catherine snapped bitterly. “I mourned you for a year. Each remembrance hurting just that little bit more. Our anniversary, your birthday, Christmas, my birthday and finally this night. And then what? Then I had to do it all again! I had been strong for a year and all my energy was gone. I kept going for a few more months, but I couldn’t see how I could do it again and again for the rest of my life.”  
“So you took your life?”  
“If you weren’t in it, it was no life,” she replied, her voice cracking as the weight of her emotions caught in her throat. "But, I couldn't find you in death and I had to find you!"  
“So,” Alverton sighed, “as you have planned this, what is your intention?”  
“It’s very simple,” she nodded, “you get into a lifeboat with me tonight and we live out the rest of our lives together.”

Alveron smiled.

“I want nothing more than to be with you, my love, but I can’t do what you ask. More than that, I can’t let you do this.”  
“You can’t let me do what?”  
“You know that for me to survive, this boy’s spirit will have to leave its body?”

Catherine looked down again and nodded.

“My dearest Catherine, you know that murder is a sin, don’t you?”

Tears dropped from her eyes, dampening the sofa cushions.

“I didn’t think about that, I didn’t want to. I just want to be with you.”

Alverton leaned in and raising her chin planted his lips softly on hers for a few precious moments.

“I can’t go through with this, for your sake. You understand, don’t you?”

Catherine stared up at her husband and began to notice physical changes in his appearance. Slowly at first. His grey hair began to darken, the circles beneath his eyes began to lighten and smooth out. She watched with her heart breaking as her husband’s features changed from that of an old man, to how he had looked when he was younger. She stared with tears standing in her eyes as his cheeks filled out and the wrinkles flatten to reveal perfectly smooth skin – a few minor changes and within moments, it was once again Mikey sitting beside her. Her husband was gone; she had lost him again. She stared harshly as Mikey became suddenly aware. He had heard the conversation and how upset she had become and clearly still was.

He knew it wasn’t a good time to say anything to her, but he was running out of time. It was already after four in the afternoon, the ship would sink that night and he had no idea how to return home.

“How do I get home?” he asked quietly.  
“You don’t!” she snapped unhappily, raising the handkerchief to her eyes once more.

*

The hairs on the back of Frank’s neck prickled. It was an odd sensation that he had felt numerous times whilst in the house. He had put it down to nerves and thought little more of it but now the sensation was growing and he visibly trembled.

“Are you okay, Frank?” Bob asked as he looked over at the guitarist.

Frank looked up and gasped as he saw a figure standing in the corner of the room. The others turned their eyes in the direction of Frank’s disbelieving stare but saw nothing.

“What?” Gerard queried. “What is it?”  
“C..can’t you see him?” Frank replied unable to tear his eyes away.  
“Who?” asked Ray, glancing quickly between the corner and Frank.  
“Your friend should be returning to you soon,” the ghost of Lord Alverton reassured the guitarist. “I’m truly sorry for what has happened.”  
“Where is he?” Frank asked.  
“Who?” Gerard asked only to be shushed and waved to be silent by Frank.  
“I’m afraid my wife was a little overcome. You see, it’s my birthday today.”  
“Mine too!” Frank replied eagerly, forgetting himself momentarily.  
“Yes, but your celebrations… there hasn’t been laughter in this house for a very long time. My darling wife called me back when she saw your friend, he looks so like me when I was his age, it’s quite unnerving.”  
“Where is he?” Frank asked again.  
“He’s with my wife for the moment.”  
“Where!”  
“He’s aboard the Titanic…”  
“He’s what!” Frank gaped on hearing the reply.  
“Frank!” Bob called. “Who are you talking to?”  
“Shh!” Frank replied curtly. “When will he be back?”  
“I’m sure it’ll be very soon. We’ve talked, Catherine and I, and reached an understanding. I’ve told her that I want her to return him to you and said my goodbyes.”  
“Well, what if she won’t do it?” Frank asked surprised by his certainty.  
“She is my wife, she will do as I ask,” Alverton replied equally surprised to be asked the question.  
“It doesn’t work like that!” Frank replied with alarm in his tone. “Women don’t just do what they’re told, they have minds of their own!”

This statement seemed to surprise Alverton more than anything, but he was from an altogether different time.

“She _will_ do as I ask.”  
“But how do you know?” Frank asked, his certainty over Mikey’s safe return draining away with each second.

Alverton thought for a moment.

“Because it’s the right thing to do.”  
“Oh, and she’s so keen on the right thing?” Frank snapped. “Just like when she took him?”  
“There’s nothing more I can do.”  
“Wait!” Frank cried desperately as the ghost faded before his eyes. “I don’t believe it, I just don’t believe it!”  
“What!” Gerard yelled, turning him around.

Frank didn’t know where to begin. It all sounded so bizarre and implausible.

“Who were you talking to? Where’s Mikey.”

Frank’s brow furrowed as he prepared to tell them something he knew full well they wouldn’t believe. Hell, he barely believed it himself.

“Mikey’s on the Titanic.”

*

“What do you mean ‘I don’t’?” Mikey got to his feet, pulling her up with him.  
“Let go of me!” she cried. Despite what she had done, she was still surprised by his reaction.  
“Only if you do the same!”  
“What do you mean?”  
“You know damn well what I mean!”

Mikey was interrupted by an urgent knocking on the door.

“Send me back home!” Mikey begged. “I’m no use to you now.”

As the knocking grew louder, Mikey grew more agitated.

“Send me back!”  
“Thomas will return, I know he will, he won’t leave me again.”  
“He’s gone! You know he’s gone. Are you blaming me? Do you want me to die here too?”  
“If you hadn’t fought him, he’d still be here now! You as good as killed him! It’s all your fault!”  
“Lady Alverton!” The voice called from outside. “Are you all right?”  
“No!” she screamed. “Please help!”  
“What!” Mikey stood back away from her. “What are you doing?”

Mikey heard the key in the lock and panicked. Looking around the room and seeing no other way out, his eyes fell once again on Lady Alverton.

“Don’t do this!”

The door burst open and three crewmen and an officer raced in. Immediately, two of the men seized Mikey’s arms while the officer addressed Lady Alverton.

“Lady Alverton, you look pale, perhaps you should sit? Shall I fetch the doctor? Lord Alverton?”  
“He killed him!” she cried pointing at Mikey.  
“That’s not true!” Mikey cried desperately as he struggled violently in the four-armed grip.

He had almost freed one arm when a heavy blow to his abdomen sent all the air rushing from his lungs and he sagged in their grip.  
What could he say? Alverton was already dead? She had brought him here from the twenty first century? He would have been locked up immediately as a mad man; they’d have thrown away the key!

“Take him to the brig.” The officer ordered with a stern expression before turning to comfort the distressed Lady Alverton.  
“Catherine!” Mikey called as he was dragged away, hoping it would strike a chord with her. “You know I didn't kill anyone! Please!”

She turned away without a word as he was pulled through the door and taken below decks.  
The luxurious trappings of first class gave way to the much more modest appearance of second class. As they proceeded further into the depths of the ship, Mikey noticed the stark furnishings of the steerage class and crew quarters were in harsh contrast to the plush comfort of the Alverton’s suite on B Deck. Finally, he saw his new accommodation – the brig. Pushed inside the eight foot square cell, Mikey gripped the bars pleading to be released and to be allowed to speak with her again, all to no avail. He watched hopelessly as the crewmen walked away and returned to their duties.

He checked his watch again. It was five forty five; he had maybe six hours to live.


	13. Too much to take in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey has less time than he thinks

“What do you mean he’s on the Titanic?” Gerard asked with his hand seizing Frank’s arm, taken by a combination of confusion and panic.  
“I don’t really know, that’s just what he said,” Frank replied looking briefly at his arm and wondered if Gerard was ever going to release his grip.  
“What who said?” Bob asked standing and facing Frank as Ray crowded around too.

Frank took a small step back trying to ease out of Gerard’s ever tightening hold, but the hint was not taken.

“Gee, that’s gonna bruise, you know,” he nodded to his arm.  
“Who did you speak to?” Gerard asked ignoring him.

Ray could see Frank’s discomfort and stepping around behind Gerard, reached over to peel his fingers from the guitarist’s arm. Frank offered Ray a grateful smile, while Gerard seemed oblivious to what had just happened.

“It was Lord Alverton. I’m amazed none of you could see him, he looked as solid as any of you guys.”  
“Alverton!” Bob gasped. “His ghost? Here?”

Bob, previously convinced that ghosts simply did not exist, didn't even feel the need to question or doubt Frank. The situation in which they found themselves was serious and no one, not even the ever mischievous Frank, was going to do or say anything that could potentially upset Gerard - or any of them, for that matter.

For his part, Frank merely shrugged. The apparition had seemed so real to him, it didn’t even seem to occur to him to be odd.

“Well, what did he say?” Ray prompted. “That was a pretty long conversation you had.”  
“Well,” Frank began, “it seems we weren’t the only ones to notice how similar Mikey and Alverton looked. Lady Alverton took a shine to Mikey and, well…”  
“Took him?” Bob asked.  
Frank shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t know how but, he’s with her. Alverton says he’s coming back soon, but I’m not so sure.”  
“Why?” asked Gerard with concern, willing to grasp at any straw.  
“Well, he just said they discussed it and he told his wife to send him back. So he just assumes she will.”  
“Huh!” Gerard flopped down into a chair. “I can’t say I’m all that convinced.”  
“Apparently, she was particularly upset. A combination of Mikey looking like Alverton and that it’s his birthday today too.”

Ray looked up into the air above their heads.

“Er… happy birthday?” he said in an attempt to appease Alverton in the vain hope it might help somehow.  
“Never mind happy fucking birthday!” Gerard snapped. “We’ve got to find a way to get Mikey back!”  
“How?” Frank reasoned. “I mean it’s not like we can just pop back in time nearly a hundred years is it?”  
"She managed it!" Gerard snapped - even he knew he wasn't making any sense.  
"She's dead, Gee," Ray tried to point out the obvious. not that he believed it would help.  
"But Mikey isn't!" he yelled back only to stop suddenly, his face paling rapidly. "At least... I..."

Gerard's eyes opened wide in panic as the terrifying thought began to slowly settle like a falling leaf. “Get the owners on the phone! This must have happened before.”  
“I seriously doubt it, Gee." Bob reasoned. "They’ll think we’re just making it up.”  
“Call them!”  
“Okay, okay!” Frank tried to sound marginally calmer than his friend, but he knew that his nerves were shredded and his panic was spiralling. Gerard’s agitation was getting to them all.  
“It’s nearly dawn and I have a horrible feeling that if we don’t get him back by then, we won’t get him back at all,” Gerard quietly explained the root of his fear. He refused to make eye contact, believing that if he did, all his resolve would be lost like water down a drain.

*

Mikey had long since finished yelling; no one could hear him, or at least no one was listening to him. He’d shouted until he was hoarse and received no response at all. He doubted that anyone was even there. Now he sat on the tiny, and very uncomfortable bunk with his knees drawn up and his back resting against the wall. He glanced nervously at his watch; it was eight ten.

He remembered visiting the Titanic Exhibition when it had been in New York. Most of the information, he freely admitted, he couldn’t recall, but there were a few significant details that now preyed on his mind. The ship had hit the iceberg sometime around eleven forty and the lower decks and filled rapidly. From the number of flights of stairs they had dragged him down, he presumed that he probably couldn’t be much lower in the ship without being underneath it. He checked his watch again – three and a half hours.

“Hey!” he yelled again. “Anyone?”

A large, well built man loomed into view as he walked down the narrow corridor.

“Stop shouting,” he snapped, “you’ll be heard well enough by the judge when we reach New York.”  
“You’re not going to reach New York,” Mikey advised.  
“Is that so?” the officer countered.  
“In three and a half hours, you’re going to hit an iceberg. It’s going to do too much damage, the ship’s going to sink.”

The officer eyed him suspiciously.

“And where did you hear that nonsense?” he asked not taking his eyes from Mikey as if he were watching a card sharp cheating.  
“I didn’t hear it, I know it!”  
“So, you’re telling me that at…” the officer checked his watch before continuing in a disbelieving tone, “twelve forty, we’re going to strike a berg?”  
“Eleven forty,” Mikey corrected.  
“It’s nine ten, you said three and a half hours. Can you not even count?”

Mikey glanced urgently at his watch. For a few moments, the discrepancy confused him, and finally he realised.

“Daylight saving!” he cried. “I forgot! We only have two and a half hours.”  
“You don’t impress me, mister! We have a full account of how you killed Lord Alverton and tried to attack Lady Alverton in their suite. We have no one on board unaccounted for, so I can only assume you’re a stowaway.”  
“No,” he smirked in reply, “I’m Mikeyway.”

The officer curled his lip at the sarcastic reply but was certain of the last laugh.

“Well, Mikey Way, now you have a room of your own. Enjoy it, you'll hang for murder, but you’ll be in one similar to this for the rest of your short life.”

Turning to leave, the officer turned his back on Mikey as he headed away. If he couldn't convince the officer, the rest of his life was only going to be two and a half hours. He had to make him listen.

“Wait!”

Reaching quickly, Mikey pulled at the collar of the officer's jacket and yanked him back towards the bars. He had only intended to pull him back and try to reason with him, but, surprised by the action, he was dragged off balance and cracked his head hard on the bars either side of Mikey’s arm.

Mikey’s eyes widened in alarm - he hadn't meant to hurt him but knew he had to take advantage of the situation. Kneeling, he pulled the officer until he was within easy reach and he rifled through the pockets of his jacket looking for a key. Unable to find one, Mikey could feel the panic rising inside him as he heard footsteps running to the officer’s aid.

“Officer Pitman!” one of the crew called.

Mikey looked up and pulled his hand back through the bars as four crew members approached and pulled the dazed and groggy, but now waking, form of Officer Pitman clear of the bars.

“It was an accident!” Mikey tried to explain, but he knew from the expressions on their faces that they didn’t even want to believe him.  
“Oh, it’s far too easy for accidents to happen down here,” one of them mocked as he opened the cell door and all four stepped inside. Mikey, now on his feet, was forced backwards towards the opposite wall. "And we don't like stowaways. Especially ones that attack our officers."  
"I didn't attack him," Mikey took two steps back warily. Raising his hands defensively, he continued: "Look, you don't understand, the ship's going to sink."  
"Is that so?" the lead man narrowed his eyes. "What have you done? Are you an anarchist? Planted a bomb on the ship?"  
"No!" Mikey's eyes widened as he took another step back.  
"Well, whoever you are and whatever you've done, we're going to make you wish you'd never been born."

The man signalled to one of the others and Mikey swallowed hard as the cell door was pulled shut, locking them all in.

Staring at them, Mikey knew without question that they were more than ready for a fight and he could tell just by the looks on their faces that they thought his slender frame was an easy target.

They stood between him and the door of the cell. He was grossly outnumbered but he would fight; fight for his very life.


	14. Mikey's in real trouble now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are looking desperate for all concerned

Lady Alverton sat alone in her suite. The words her husband had spoken to her were rolling over and over in her mind. How could she accept that he was right? That boy was her only chance to be with her beloved husband again and she had been denied that one precious pleasure. All the advantages of wealth couldn’t replace him and she would have happily traded it all for more time with her husband.

Of course, that wasn’t an option. The only option available had been refused her, and, most devastating of all, refused by her husband. At first she worried that after all this time he had stopped loving her. She simply couldn’t cope with the thought and had lashed out at the only person she could blame - Mikey. When the ship’s Third Officer, Pitman had arrived at her suite, she was bitterly angry and had named Mikey as her husband’s killer knowing that even as she said the words that she was lying. Reflecting on it now, she realised that she had condemned him to death; locked in a cell as the ship sank. Who would risk their lives to save a murderer? Yes, she knew he wasn’t, but she also knew that the prejudices of the age would damn him in the minds of those in authority, without trial or evidence. Why? Because he was a stowaway and she was a Lady of means. It wasn’t fair. He seemed a pleasant young man, not even a thief, let alone a murderer.

Her husband was right. She knew it. And she knew he loved her; she only had to look into his eyes to see that. And that last kiss had been beautiful and still tingled on her lips. But he wouldn’t stay – for her sake. Now, she knew what he meant, but she hated it. It wasn’t her spirit or her needs or even her conscience that he was concerned about, but her soul. She hadn’t been with him in the afterlife and that had tortured her more than not being with him in life. It was as if she simply couldn’t find him.Perhaps it was punishment for killing herself, she couldn’t know for sure, but whatever the reason, if she did nothing else, perhaps this time she would be able to make that right? If she couldn’t have him in this life, maybe there was a chance for them to be together in the afterlife? Glancing at the clock on the mantel she knew she didn’t have long.

*

Despite appearances, Mikey knew how to handle himself in a fight. He’d grown up in Jersey; in some parts, if you didn’t grow up learning how to fight, you didn’t grow up. Trying not to show his apprehension, Mikey planted his feet firmly and set his balance. He’d never taken on four before, well, at least not alone. But now he was fighting for his life. If that wasn’t an incentive, nothing would be.

Mikey waited for one of them to make the first move, but the four of them had spread out in a semi-circle around him and constantly glancing from one to the other was almost making him dizzy.

“Come on!” One of them taunted. “You think you’re tough, taking down an officer when his back’s turned? Try us!”  
“Four on one?” Mikey retorted with a forced but, he hoped, convincing laugh. “You think that’s brave?”  
“Okay,” still fancying his chances, the one who had spoken nodded and gestured to Mikey to come at him. “Just you an me, then?”

The three other men, stood back, but remained close enough to be intimidating. Mikey was left with the strong impression that should he overpower his opponent, the others would be quick to step in. It was still very much an unfair fight, but there were no other options – this was the best he could hope for under the circumstances. The man in front of him did nothing but goad him, trying to force him to make the first move. Mikey wasn’t sure why, but time was running out and he had to escape. With a sudden burst of energy, Mikey lowered his shoulder and slammed into the man standing opposite him. Clipping his left arm and shoulder, it was enough to catch him off-balance and spin him out of his way.

Far from wanting a fight, the young bassist just wanted to get out of the cell. Almost at the door, Mikey was tackled from the side by one of the other men. Lending all his weight to the tackle, the man allowed himself to simply fall with his arms wrapped around his target. As a result, Mikey was simultaneously pushed and pulled to the floor and, with his arms pinned, he landed awkwardly, unable to break his fall.

“You coward!” One of them shouted. “Running away!”  
“I don’t want a fight, I want to get out!” Mikey yelled in return as he struggled against the two men now holding him down.  
“Well, none of us gets what we want, do we?” The crewman Mikey had shoved aside replied sourly.  
“I’m not the coward!” he yelled as he continued to writhe in their grip. “It’s still four of you on one.”  
“Well, let’s lessen the odds,” the crewman replied cracking his knuckles on his right hand.

With a simple jerk of his head, the crewman signalled to the others. Mikey was pulled to his knees, with one of the crewmen stuffing a rag into his mouth as a crude gag. While one of the crewmen stood at the door and kept watch, the first man stepped forward, grinning sadistically, as both of the remaining men each held one of Mikey’s arms behind his back and pushed a foot firmly down on his ankles. Mikey was held firm, unable to fight back or even shout for help as blow after blow was rained down on him.

“There,” the crewman pulled the rag from Mikey’s mouth as he slumped in their grip, poised on the brink of unconsciousness.“Now it’s four on none.”

As the men released his arms, Mikey slipped to the floor, barely aware as the four men left, locking the cell door behind them. It was nine fifty five; less than two hours remained.

*

“Yes,” Frank sighed with exasperation, “I do know what time it is, but this is an emergency.”  
“The house? What’s happened?” the curator sat up in bed imagining the whole building on fire.  
“No, no, the house is fine,” Frank assured him, believing this would make him more accessible, but it only served to irritate him more.  
“Then what is it?” he snapped.  
“One of our friends is missing.”  
“What do you mean missing? Are you sure he’s not just hiding? It is Halloween, he’s probably playing a trick on you.”  
“No, we’ve seen ghosts, Lord and Lady Alverton, she took him and… hello? Hello?” Frank waved the handset at the others. “I told you he wouldn’t believe me.”  
“Give me the phone,” Gerard growled, snatching it away from Frank, who was more than happy to let him try.

Pressing the redial button, Gerard waited for a reply, only to receive the same angry voice that Frank had dealt with. But, he decided, Frank had been too polite.

“Don’t hang up on me!” Gerard ordered as an opening greeting. “We’re not playing a prank, this is real! My brother is missing, this house has something to do with it and we think you know what. So I suggest you get your ass down here right now and help us get him back!”

Gerard lowered the phone with a deep scowl set on his face.

“Is he coming?” Frank asked hopefully.  
Gerard sighed hopelessly. “He hung up.”  
“Then we’re on our own with this?”  
“No,” Gerard sat down and put his feet up. “I’m going to give him five minutes to get comfy, then I’m calling again, and again until he comes here.”  
“He’s more likely to just have us arrested,” Bob interjected.

Gerard shrugged as he checked his watch.

“Frank,” Ray began, “check the site, see if there’s anyone else we can call.”  
“What? Like Ghostbusters?”  
“No, that’s not what I mean!” Ray replied with a genuine smile hiding behind the scolding. “Related links, interested groups, ghost hunters or Titanic Societies, anything, someone that may be able to help.”

Frank nodded and opened up the site once more. As the page refreshed, a single comment in one of the paragraphs caught his eye.

“Oh no!” he cried. “I think this is worse than before!”  
“What?” Gerard asked nervously, sitting forward in the chair.  
Frank turned and pointed vaguely behind him at the screen.  
“Now it’s saying they both died, drowned. Both of them.”  
“No!” Gerard cried, his eyes widening as he leapt up and read the words for himself.

Turning back to face Frank, Gerard’s brow furrowed and, gripping his friend’s arms, his earlier bravado gone.

“Frank… I… I don’t know what to do. We have to get him back, we have to change what it says!”

Frank nodded, equally bewildered, equally helpless.


	15. Can Mikey get home?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can Lady Alverton help Mikey before the ship sinks?

The cold seeped through, stirring Mikey’s conscious mind and slowly bringing him back to full wakefulness. He groaned as he remembered the vicious attack by those four cowards who had held him helpless as he was beaten into unconsciousness. Rolling onto his back, he allowed his right arm to flop to his side. As it landed, the small splash and the feel of water on his fingers brought him suddenly fully alert. Sitting up his eyes widened but closed almost immediately as it felt as though his head would explode with the pain. Slumping back onto his elbows, Mikey concentrated hard to slow his breathing and wait for the agony to subside. He knew within moments that that would be a very long wait and it was time he didn’t have.

Quickly glancing at his watch, he saw that it was twelve forty five. He gasped at the realisation that he had been unconscious for over two hours, and probably would be still had it not been for the water seeping in around him. The floor of the cell was covered in approximately half an inch of water and he was perhaps even more surprised when he realised that the terrible grinding noise it was generally assumed the iceberg had made as it scraped along the lower part of the hull had not been what had woken him. Oh, but this water, this freezing water could wake the dead. Pushing himself to his feet, he shivered and gripped his arms in a self-hug in an attempt to warm up. He had never felt water this cold before, not that wasn’t already ice. But he knew that the salt in the water lowered the freezing temperature and that it may fall below zero without freezing. Zero was bad enough though! His clothes were already soaked and he could already feel it affecting his concentration and mobility.

Edging to the bars, he peeled his arm away from his body and curled his fingers around one of the bars for balance.

“Help!” he called. At first, his voice felt quite weak from the cold and he had to dig deep within himself to use precious energy to shout louder. Calling repeatedly for a few minutes, his teeth chattering between shouts, it soon became apparent to him that no one was even there. No one could hear him.

*

Frank picked up the phone again, determined that this time he knew how to get the curator to the house.

“Hear me out!” he said quickly before the curator had chance to say anything.  
“I’ll hear you, then I’m having you arrested! You think you can call me at five thirty and…”  
“Listen! I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you come here right now and help us.”  
“You’re serious?”  
“Yes!”  
“One of your party is really missing?”  
“Yes! Please, we need your help. The site’s now saying they both died on the Titanic. She’s changed history, she’s taken Mikey and…”  
“What did you say?”  
“I told you before, Lady Alverton, she’s got him, he’s with her on the Titanic,” Frank’s voice sounded increasingly frantic.  
“Hmmm…”  
“What does ‘hmmm’ mean?”  
“It means I’ll be right there.”

Frank stared at the phone as it went dead.

“Hung up again?” Gerard asked miserably.  
“He’s on his way,” Frank replied with a relieved sigh.  
"Probably just wants the money," Gerard scowled.  
"Who cares, so long as he comes?"

*

It was just as she remembered it. First Officer Murdoch had just lowered the first lifeboat and even she could see that it was only half full. There would be a full enquiry after the few survivors reached New York. One of the main questions posed was why of the sixteen lifeboats mounted on the davits and the four collapsibles, only five were lowered with anything approaching full capacity, especially as the crew were aware that even fully loaded there wasn’t enough room to hold even half the number of passengers and crew. Of course, the answer was simple enough. It was cold, it was dark, the lifeboats were tiny and frightening. Above all, the popular opinion was that God Himself could not sink the Titanic and people believed that statement wholeheartedly. She herself had left the ship only on her husband’s insistence – a mere formality, he had told her. How wrong he had been, how wrong they had all been. She had spent the last hour trying desperately to convince her friends, acquaintances and anyone who even walked past her to get into the boats, they all ignored her; one commenting that if she were so certain the ship would sink, why didn’t she get into a boat herself and stop bothering people.

“Well,” she said to herself sadly, “I tried my best, they refuse to be saved, but there is one person on this ship that should not die. Must not.”

Turning to head back inside, she pulled aside a crewman on his way out to the boat deck.

“Pardon me, but where might I find the brig?”  
“The brig, ma’am?” replied the shocked crewman.  
“Yes, tell me.”  
“Please, ma’am just get into the lifeboat, you’ll be fine.”  
“Tell me!” she ordered.

The crewman frowned; he had things to do and this silly woman was asking stupid questions. Briefly giving her directions she headed off, hoping she wasn’t yet too late.

*

On one of the monitors, Bob noticed the main door to the house opening.

“He’s here!” he cried leaping to his feet and heading out to the entrance hall with the others.  
“Which one of you called me?”  
“I did,” replied Frank extending a hand. “Frank Iero.”  
The curator nodded his greeting and shook Frank’s hand. “My name’s Barnes.”  
“Which one of you yelled at me?”

Gerard raised a hand and looked up apologetically.

“Don’t worry son,” he smiled, “your brother’s missing, in your shoes, I’d yell too. Now, show me this change on the website and I want to see a picture of your missing friend.”

Frank led him to the computer and provided him with all he asked for. He watched nervously as Barnes chewed his lip.

“Okay, tell me everything.”

It took Frank a good ten minutes to cover all the strange happenings and discoveries they had made and afterwards a silence hung in the air. They still half expected him to simply laugh at them and call the police, but instead he nodded.

“Now let me tell you what I know,” he began pulling up a chair. “As you know, Lady Alverton survived the sinking but lost her husband. But what the site doesn’t mention is that she was utterly distraught and over the eighteen months until she killed herself, had tried very hard to connect with her dead husband’s spirit. She repeatedly called in all the renowned psychics of the day and none of them could help. When it became too much for her, she killed herself. But even in death she couldn’t find him and roamed the house, constantly searching. Recent visits from psychic mediums have told us that she believes that it’s some sort of punishment on her and she’s searching for a way to go back and put things right.”  
“Well,” Gerard cut in, “that’s exactly what she’s done and she’s taken Mikey with her.”  
“He does look strikingly similar to Lord Alverton as a young man.” Barnes replied. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think you’re right.”  
“Yes, thank you,” Gerard’s agitation was growing once more, “we believe we’re right too, but what can we do about it?”

Barnes simply stared; somehow he knew he should have been prepared for the question, but now it was asked, he simply didn’t have a response.

*

Mikey sighed with relief as finally he heard footsteps approaching.

“Please!” he begged as he saw Third Officer Pitman. “Let me out, the water’s coming in there’s not much time.”

Pitman reached the cell and stared with a mixture of uncertainty and concern. Drawing a gun from his pocket, he pointed it at Mikey.

“How did you know?” he asked. “Tell me!”

Mikey backed away from the bars before realising there was nowhere he could hide.

“Look at you!” Pitman continued. “Your hair, your clothes! I’ve never seen anyone like you before, and believe me, I’ve seen a lot of people.”  
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Mikey muttered.  
“Try me!” The Officer waved the gun, clearly upset and agitated. “You know before it happens that the ship would strike an iceberg. What now?”  
“It’ll sink with over half the lives onboard.”  
“This ship’s unsinkable!” Pitman insisted.  
“Yes, I know that’s what you think, but it will sink. Please, let me out.”  
“God couldn’t sink this ship!”  
“It’s not God that’s doing it. It struck an iceberg, took in too much water. It’s going to sink!”  
“So,” Pitman pulled back the hammer of the gun, “this is your work?”  
“No!” cried Mikey. “Who do you think I am?”

Pitman didn’t reply as a chair crashed down on his back. As he slipped with a grunt to the floor dazed by the action, Lady Alverton ran forward, lifting her skirt a few inches to trail above the increasingly rising water level. Mikey now stood at the bars, the water at mid-calf, his feet numb.

“Catherine!” he cried, glad to see a familiar face and one, it appeared, that was now helping him.  
“Are you all right?” she asked. “I am so sorry about everything. I truly am, but perhaps helping you will also help me?”  
“I hope so,” Mikey replied unselfishly.

He looked down at the dazed officer and noticed that his gun had slipped from his hands.

“You have to find the gun, so I can shoot the lock.”

Lady Alverton stared briefly; intoxicated by his resemblance to her husband. As she stared Third Officer Pitman began to rise to his feet. Turning, he stared wide-eyed as behind Lady Alverton, the bulkhead started to buckle and groan.

“Lady Alverton!” he cried. “The bulkhead is failing, you must come with me!”  
“No!” she cried as she fought to pull out of his grasp.

Mikey reached through the bars, trying to help, but they were already out of reach. With a determined tug, she finally wrenched herself free and watched as, with a moment’s hesitation as the groan of metal straining against metal grew loud in his ears, Pitman ran, leaving her alone with Mikey.

“The bulkhead’s going to break, you have to…”  
“I have to help you,” she interrupted.

A sickening grinding sound assaulted Mikey’s ears, it sounded to all intent and purpose like an agonised scream as the tortured metal tore away from it’s housing. Lady Alverton took his hands. As she did it was as if all that existed was her and Mikey.

“Thank you.”

As she spoke, the bulkhead collapsed and bitterly cold water poured in like a burst dam. Again, just like the time before Mikey’s world swirled and darkened.

*

“You don’t know, do you?” Frank asked unhappily.  
“I… I’m sorry, I’ve never heard of anything like this. I…”

Barnes was cut off by the crackle of the monitors, as for a split second they darkened before coming back to life again.  
All eyes turned back to the monitors, scanning them to see if anything had changed.

“There!” cried Ray, pointing to the master bedroom.

Sure enough, beneath the portrait lay a dark huddled form. Only the fortunate camera angle identified it as Mikey.

All of them raced to the bedroom; Gerard entering first and dropping to his brother’s side and pulling him onto his knees.

“Mikey!” he cried. “Oh God, he’s soaked!”

Mikey turned his eyes to meet his brother’s, his face pale, his lips almost blue.

“I’m cold, so… so cold.”  
“He’s freezing! Grab that blanket!” Gerard ordered.

Within thirty minutes, the fire was lit in the bedroom and Mikey was bent over sitting with blankets wrapped close around him while his clothes dried.

“Are you okay, Mikey?” Frank asked.

Mikey nodded before looking up and fixing Frank with a serious stare.

“No more haunted houses, Frank,” he offered a thin smile, “I really have had enough now.”

Frank threw his arms around his friend, just grateful to have him returned safely.

“The site still says they both died on the ship,” Ray commented, checking the site with the curator.  
“She did,” Mikey nodded. “She died sending me back. There was no way she could have got out.”

The back of Frank’s neck prickled in the same way it had immediately prior to seeing Lord Alverton. Looking up, he saw two spirits, smiling, arm in arm. His mouth widened into a broad grin,

“They’re together now, at last. Happy Birthday, Lord Alverton.”  
“So,” Bob noted, “she did kill herself on Halloween – his birthday.”  
“No,” Frank replied distantly, his eyes still fixed on the happy spirit couple. “They both died on the Titanic, just nearly a hundred years apart.”

 

* THE END *

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. This has been fun to write, I hope you like it.  
> Sas x


End file.
